Given The Darkness
by Wraths Miasma
Summary: Never had she realized that anything beyond the scope of the mortal realm existed, but when she ventured down the rabbit hole into Wonderland...she began to learn there was more to the mortal coil.


He had been there several times over the course of the last week, and he'd never failed to gain at least one or two glances. He had that sort of deportment about him: he always stood upright, always looked people directly in the eye, and always seemed to be smiling as if there was some joke only he understood. Though he wore a fashionable black shirt-silk, it seemed-tucked into wrinkle-free pants of the same hue, his hair was a contrasting blond, long and pulled away from his face. So it was this night, as well: he sits, swirling his glass of white wine in his hand, and languidly looking out the window.

A girl sighs while literally stomping down the street, looking over her shoulder as if expecting something. Turning forward again, she growls softly, and continues her march. Long red curls bounce with her every step, reaching down past her shoulder blades. It was fairly late for a young woman to be walking alone, but then again those fierce green eyes that were glaring at the world seemed to be standing their ground.

"Hm." She walks past the window he looks out, and the mysterious man's smile deepens, ever so slightly, and he watches her with feigned disinterest as she passes. In a matter of moments, he has crept out of the door after her. In less than a minute's time, she'd hear a voice, directly behind her: "It's a bit cold out. Here, would you like my jacket?" It was a genuine offer, and his voice comes as rich as cream.

The evidence that she hadn't even heard the approach was obvious in how the girl reacts, in a startled jump. She spins, almost too swiftly but she balances herself out. Her eyes stare at him, squinted at first but then relax. Then her brows furrow, barely. "I'm fine, thank you." while his own voice was kind, hers came out as a more throttled hiss, attempting to sound polite but failing miserably. Blinking once, she turns around and starts off again.

"Ah..." He takes in her response with a warm smile, his crystal blue eyes catching hers for just a moment. As she starts to walk away, he slowly falls into pace beside her. "Well, then, as a gentleman, I couldn't let you continue to walk out alone, at this time of night. It could be hazardous, you understand." He does not look directly at her as he speaks, but she can hear that easy smile in his voice.

She jerks her gaze up, and it instantly squints. As he catches up alongside her, she takes a step to the side, away from him. "I told you, I'm fine. I can take care of myself…" her words are becoming more of a growl. She looks straight ahead, quickening her pace and thinking out loud, "The last thing I want is a man bugging me…"

_Well, then, that explains several things_, he thinks. Nonetheless, he continues to walk beside her, allowing her the distance she sought. "While I don't doubt that you're quite capable, it's simply the code of conduct where I am from. If you'll indulge my whim, I feel a bit duty-bound to accompany you. If my presence should, as you say, 'bug' you, then we can travel in silence. At least until we arrive at a well-lit area?" He is also, it seems, very well-spoken.

Her quickened pace comes to a winding halt. Fists clench tightly, delicate knuckles turning white as a very irritated sigh is released. "Fine." she grumbles lowly, not even looking at him she starts up again. A trained eye would take the statement from before and apply that to what she is wearing: a layered midnight blue sleeveless top with plunging neck and back line. Even with such a lovely top, she is wearing semi-formal jeans. Perhaps club-wear? Either way, there are the faintest hints of bruises on her right arm, in the shape of fingertips.

His eyes _do_ seem to catch the small details, however fleeting they may be, but he keeps his word. They walk, side by side and in relative silence, his jacket still draped over his arm. He remains respectfully far from her, though he does glance in her direction repeatedly. If he were right, she'd talk to him as soon as she began to compose herself.

After a block, she does seem to calm down. Her forward-leaned trot smoothing out and straight, her pace slowing as well. Yet another sigh passes through her nose, but this time it sounds quite defeated. Her lips part to speak, but then the beeping of a horn sounds behind them. She jumps again and spins. Beside her pulls up a car, and a girl around her age partially hanging out.

"Hey…I'm really sorry." The blonde in the car grins sheepishly.

"Oh? Just sorry…!" She growls, huffing.

"Well, I was sort of busy."

"Yeah, playing tonsil hockey with whats-his-face." The redhead snaps, "That bastard had his hands all over me, how could you not notice me jabbing you in the ribs?"

The girl in the car doesn't seem to hear the question; her eyes are on the man instead, "Who is that?"

The angered girl doesn't even look to her traveling companion, "A gentleman who's treating me a helluva lot better than my best friend!"

"I'm sorry ok? Get in, let's go to a different place."

"No! I'm going home! Go have fun with dipwad…" she pauses, seeing the other girl's pleading stare, "Go! And don't make a racket when you come in. The walls are paper thin!"

The car pulls away, and the young woman falls back into her angered stalk.

As they had walked, the length of his stride never seemed to change, and his pace only altered itself in the slightest to match her own. Now, though, having seen this, he cannot help but fall in behind her, delicately draping his jacket over her shoulders. "Ah," he says sagely, "love...or something like it...can cloud the judgment of any of us, I suppose. I'm not so certain I'd look down upon her _too_ much for the indiscretion..."

Her first reaction is to jerk away, but the warmth of the jacket on her bare shoulders soothes her. Fingers knit against the collar, holding it tight as a wind whips against them as they pass an alley. "Yeah, right." she hisses softly, "Have a drunk idiot breathing down your neck, trying to grope you, then tell me the same thing again." Her head shakes from side to side, eyes fallen to gaze at the sidewalk they passed over.

To that, he actually laughs very softly. "Well," he says smoothly in response, "I've found myself in...similar...situations in the past. I'm pleased to say those sorts of things almost always worked themselves out for me." There is a pause, and he adds, "But, then, culturally...it's a bit different for young ladies."

Those green eyes roll, long lashes following. "Men…" Another few blocks are passed before there is the rumble of yet another car. She turns and utters a curse as yet another rolled window approaches them. "Hey babe, what happened to ya?" a clearly intoxicated, and disheveled man slurs. His eyes narrow on the blonde man. "Who's that? You trying to take my woman?"

"Go home, Dan. I'm done with you." The girl says strongly.

"But, we just started dating! You can't be done with me yet…"

"We're not dating. Go home. If you make it home without hitting a telephone pole…I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The man frowns, leaning down to stare at the man once again. "You touch her, and I'll killya…" he floors the gas and speeds off down the street, straight through a red light, and on until disappearing.

"Why God…why?" The redhead cries softly, staring at the sky. "Tonight sucks…of all days in the year, why does today have to suck!"

"Oh, my." The gentleman she's with makes a show of faking concern. "An intoxicated man I have never met before is making death threats against me merely because I choose to associate with a lady in distress? What_ever_ shall I do?" Obviously trying to put her at ease, he looks down to her and smiles. "Hmm. I'd wager, birthday, then?"

There is only a twitch at the girl's mouth to his jest, but it's enough to add some warmth to those emerald eyes of hers. To his question, she sighs and stares ahead. "Yep." she pauses, as if remembering herself she gives him a small glare, "It's none of your business…but yes, it's my birthday."

"My apologies." Almost immediately, he withdraws figuratively, if not literally. "I did not mean to pry. Only passing the time with idle chatter. Please, don't mind me." The collar of his shirt seems to carry with it a soft, almost indescribably sublime scent: most likely an expensive cologne of one sort or another. "But, then, may I ask this: if you could have anything..." Smiling once more, he gestures to her with his hands, wordlessly beckoning for her name.

One of her brows perks, and she regards him with a stoic stare. _I thought he said he wasn't going to bug me_…she thinks to herself, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip. Eyes fall to his hands with the gesture made, then bad up to him, becoming calculated. Should she say? "Aria…"

"Ah, thank you, Aria." He flashes another easy smile and quickly adds, "A pleasure to meet you. My name is Christopher. Chris, if you prefer. Now, then, if I may be so bold as to offer more pleasant conversation...if you could have anything you wished for tonight, what might it be? If it's too personal, I assure you I understand."

That brow perks again, and the other furrows. What an odd question, really weird. Her mind stretches, realizing that there's quite a distance before her apartment. She blinks slowly, deciding to entertain his question. "Well, I dunno." an absent shrug, "I just wanted a nice, quiet evening…with a piece of cake." her head shakes from side to side, "Then Taila had to drag me out, saying that I have to drink on my twenty-first birthday, that it was only right." a grimace moves through her as her hands gesture to her shirt, "Then she made me wear this whorish-travesty!"

The man seems to consider her clothing closely, nodding knowingly as he does so. "Yes, I can certainly see. That is, it doesn't seem to suit you very well, to that I'll agree." Looking ahead once more, he says very simply, "I know a little cafe near here that makes a _wonderful dulce du leche_, and it isn't every day I can help make a young lady's birthday wishes come true. Might you be interested? My treat, completely."

She goes to chewing at her lip again, looking up at him through squinted eyes. There is definitely some deep thinking going on, and judgment being passed on his part. She finally speaks, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He chooses to look directly into her eyes, and again, he smiles. "Several reasons, I believe. I relate to your position: being caught out, not fully understood by even your closest friends. I also see that you've got a fire about you that I find to be somewhat invigorating. Finally..." His smile deepens slightly as he adds in a quieter tone, "...and related to that, well, I find you to be an attractive lady."

Those emerald hues widen, and a light pink comes to life in her otherwise pale, lightly freckled cheeks. She seems to glance everywhere, except at him. "Well, that's a very nice offer, and compliment…" she bites her lip again, "…and I would accept, but it's a bit late…er…early for such a sugary dessert? Isn't the translation or other name 'a spoonful of sugar'?"

Christopher's smile breaks into a gentle laugh. "Oh, you're probably right in that regard. I hadn't put words to my thoughts, but I was already leaning toward a raspberry tart instead. No, no, it's _your_ day, and you could have whatever you desired. I'll insist, if I must: you really should have some quiet, pleasant conversation, and a bit of cake. I don't think that's asking too much on your part."

"Well…it's not like I'm going to get any sleep anyway. Especially if Taila brings dipwad home with her…" she grumbles, rolling those eyes again. Finding him again, she gives a light shrug. "Ok, I accept. I might as well have some peace tonight before I go home to hear her apologize up and down." The contempt for the girl from the car is still fresh in her tone.

"Ah!" He gently chides her, even going so far as to nudge her in the side. "Now, now. No thinking negative thoughts for now. We'll take care of that we when arrive at it." Quickly shunting the subject, he adds, "So, then, Aria...are you a fan of opera at all?"

She only stares at him lucidly as he nudges her, then starts to walk again as he leads. "Em…well. 'Phantom of…'" she chuckles abashedly, "Though I did actually go and see that one, rather than just the movie. I wouldn't mind checking out some real operas."

"Ah, see, given your name, it seemed natural enough. If the superstitious are right, you might find it to be quite to your liking." As he walks beside her, almost as though he wasn't thinking to do so, he offers her the crook of his arm, in classic chivalrous fashion.

There's a pause, but after a few steps she places only the tips of her fingers around his elbow, reluctantly. "What do you mean…given my name?" Her head tilts to the side in a curious fashion, those natural curls bouncing as they walk.

"Aria. Originally, it was the Italian word for 'air'. In modern times, we use it to describe a song sung solo, with an orchestra. Usually, of course, that would mean an opera." He explains this very evenly, without the slightest hints of patronization.

She gains a thoughtful expression, "Oh. I…didn't know that." there's almost a sense of self-ridicule in her tone. Looking back up at him, "Where did you say you were from….?"

"I didn't, actually." He looks down at her again with a warm smile. "But that is a very charming way of asking. I'm originally from England, but it's been quite a few years since I left. I'm afraid it's taken most of my accent along with it. And what about you, Aria? Are you, as they say, a 'local girl'?"

She stifles a laugh, "Ha! No. If I were a 'local girl'…I'd be willingly dressing like a whore and hitting up all the clubs!" she huffs a snort of disdain, "No, I'm just in this city to go to school. I'm originally a country girl." Which is a surprising statement, since she did not have any sort of accent.

"You see, there are many in modern times that would look down on such a thing, but they forget that, for most of human history, land ownership-like education-was a privilege for the wealthy." Christopher says all this very smoothly, as though he'd had this thought planned for this very moment all along. "It was the poor, and by inference the poorly-educated, who lived in cities. As an example, Walden was, as you would say, a 'country boy.'"

The young woman only stares at him, wondering what sort of knowledge-robot she'd stumbled upon. It was a relief to have some intelligent conversation, as compared to Taila's usual yammer about how hot the new guy down the hall was. But this guy, Christopher, he was…odd. "Hm." She nods thoughtfully, watching a calico cat as it crosses the sidewalk before them and heads on across the street. A small smile tugs at her lips as she watches the feline go.

Christopher, too, watches the cat with a slight smile and almost active disinterest. "I wonder if the poor girl's in any sort of pain." There is a pause, and then, "The cat, that is. If she's a stray, I'd imagine she's not in the best of health. That is my interpretation: life is fleeting, and in this moment, you and I are privileged to be in good health." To punctuate his next statement, he looks toward her, hoping to capture her eyes in his own. "So it is that we are given this moment. Why shouldn't we enjoy it?"

Her head tilts to the side with what he says at first, about the cat. But then crooks further with what other words cross. He does catch her eyes, and hers are mildly confused. "Well, I didn't say that I'm not enjoying it." she pauses, friction rising in her face again, "I mean, this is a lot better than sitting at home alone, I guess. Even if I would have liked to skip what led up to this…"

To silence her, he places a finger over her lips, his smile becoming mildly mischievous. "...I told you, we're not going to talk about that. Instead, I want you to tell me why it is you're _glad_ to be alive." As he lifts his finger from her lips, he points over her shoulder. "Here we are."

"Hrm?" The color of her cheeks deepens, and a doeish stare moves through her expression. As he points over her shoulder, she turns to see where he has led her. "You're very odd…" she says softly.

It is, exactly as he said, a cafe: Belladonna's, by name. True to his word, it is still open, if only for the moment. "My dear, if what we saw earlier is any indicator of what is 'normal', I'll gladly be considered 'odd.' Now, then, shall we?"

In mind, she found that comment amusing, and agreed with it as well. Allowing him to lead, she looks to see if there are any other customers inside, but sees none. "Are you sure they're not getting ready to close…?"

"They're open for another half-hour. As long as we're brief, I don't believe we'll be disruptive." Lead, he does, but only so far as the door: standing to one side, he opens it for her and gestures in with a sweeping half-bow. "Ladies first, I believe."

She smiles, and then shakes her head at him, moving along inside. Aria had never heard of this Café, maybe they were new. On that note, she'd never heard of a Café being open so late. It was nearly one in the morning!

The staff seem to react to Christopher in a familiar fashion, rapidly offering their best service...and a table by a window. They are, as she thought, the only people present: the tableware is nice, and the cutlery shines so brightly, one almost has to wonder if it might be cast from legitimate silver. The menu is small, but a folding book with the establishment's name embossed in silver over what looks like black leather. Christopher takes it and leafs through it almost absently.

"I take it you come here often." Aria says softly while watching the employees scuttle about. She continues on in her gaze, taking in the entire establishment. It must not have been as new as she thought, even if everything were sparkling brightly. Her eyes finally fall on him, "So, what was the whole 'happy to be alive' thing about?"

"Well," he looks up from his menu as he replies, "I believe this is the part where I expound on some philosophy or other that, for all its merits, is essentially Epicureanism in a clever new wrapping. So, instead, I'll tell you the truth: I was trying to be charming. Tell me, was it at all effective?" His eyes shine slightly as he speaks, and he leans forward; all in all, it makes it seem like there is no other person in the world to him as he speaks.

The girl only stares, eyes widening as he leans. "I suppose so…?" Blinking a few times, her fingers seem to tighten onto the jacket around her shoulders in reaction to his odd questions and looks. In some way to find comfort or control.

"I'm sorry." He leans back, that smile not even wavering. "I can see all this is probably making you a bit uncomfortable. I should be more considerate, especially with the events that have already taken place for you tonight." With no further words, he turns to browsing the menu again, leaving her to speak next.

Guilt streams through her, "It's not that. I mean, well I guess it is. But then again, that wasn't your fault." mentally smacking herself, "It's just weird, talking to a guy who seems so…adult." she chuckles, "I'm not very used to it. It's nice, but sort of creepy since I've come to associate man and idiot to be the same since I moved here."

"That," he says with flourish of his hand, "is a perfectly logical association to make. Myself, though, I don't stop there: I see many examples of the fair sex behaving in baffling ways. For instance, playing...tonsil hockey, was it?...while your best friend is the unwelcome recipient of certain attentions." He's still trying, very hard at that, to make her smile.

Hearing that term come from him, she bites her lip to keep from laughing but fails. Holding a hand over her mouth, she tries to calm down. "Hm. Yes, your right. I guess I just have a failing faith in mankind as a whole." she laughs softly, smiling.

"Aha. Good. I knew you could laugh!" He reaches across the table, in another beckoning gesture. "But honestly, when you look around...it's difficult to really have much faith in people at all. Or, at least, I believe so. So, instead, I find my little pleasures where I can: brightening a lady's day, perhaps. Small victories."

In reply, she sticks out her tongue momentarily. Then nods, "Yeah, I don't really get to hear that often. I usually get the 'don't be so mean' lecture from Taila when I tell her that I have a general hatred for everyone." she laughs softly. "Oh, my personal favorite. -I don't hate you, I just hate the idea of you-." she giggles.

"No doubt that's been emblazoned on a t-shirt somewhere. If not, it should be. It'd sell quite well, I imagine." He would have continued, except that the waitress chose this moment to approach the table again. Glancing to Aria, he waits on her to order first.

"Maybe I should coin it before anyone else does." She adds quickly, then looks at the waitress and back to Christopher. "What was that flan thing you were talking about? Dulce de leche?"

"An excellent choice, in my opinion." Christopher nods. "But...it is a bit late," he adds with a mischievous smile, hoping to-again-elicit some positive response.

"If you don't think we'll have enough time…" she looks up at the waitress, questioningly "…an iced white mocha sounds good." Glancing back at Christopher, she gives him that stare that she'd had when mentioning that she wouldn't be getting any sleep. That barely aggravated, but almost amused stare.

"Well, _you_ were the one who said it was late at night for sweets." He even affords her a knowing wink before looking up. "It's simple tonight: a caramel flan, I believe." He offers to take her menu from her to give to the server before folding his fingers and leaning forward. "Well, what do you study? In school, of course."

She looks down at the table with his question, "Eh. I'm an Art Major, heading towards teaching." her tone is dry, almost bland. "Nothing big." Crossing her legs, she finds a more comfortable position.

His elbows on the table, his hands hide the lower part of his face. "Very well. I see _that_ topic would only bore you terribly." His eyes twinkle as he examines her reactions closely. "But if it's _that_ boring to you, it may be time to consider another field of study."

Looking up, "It's not that it bores me, it doesn't. I'm good at it, painting, drawing and all…visualizing, all that. But, I just kinda wish that I could go into…photography. You know, high-end fashion and whatnot. For magazines, where you look at the picture and think 'good lord, how did they get that shot?' " she pauses, "Maybe even wildlife photography."

"Hmm." Christopher's eyes flicker off into space for just a moment, so much so that she can almost _hear_ him thinking. "You have an eye for composition, then? Would that be a fair statement?"

She shrugs, "I guess. I'm just fascinated by what can be captured through more than just the eye." Under the table, her feet are swinging back and forth ever so slightly. Taking a curl into her hands, she begins to both inspect and fiddle with it.

"Then, a camera is an odd tool to use. Personally, I favor poetry. Dickinson is a favorite." Somehow, that seems fitting: playful, but rimmed with a certain melancholy that is hard to place.

"Not entirely. Even when thinking that you're taking a simple picture, there's more to it that just the subject. It's our one chance as mere mortals to freeze time, and keep it in our hands to be remembered." she straightens the curl, and then lets it go. "As cliché as it sounds, I like Poe myself, I also like Frost." she grins a little.

"Because I could not stop for Death," Christopher muses, his eyes lightly grazing over her own. "Poe, I might not have guessed, but I see a good deal of Frost within you." It might be such a bad birthday after all: sitting in a cafe, quietly talking poetry with a charming, handsome stranger.

She smiles, "Who can deny Edgar? He's legend, dark or not. I actually find his pieces as relaxing as Frost's 'The road not taken'." she shrugs, guessing he would find that odd. "But Poe is legend…" she playfully scolds, "Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad I am not…and very surely do I not dream. But tomorrow I die, and today I would unburthen my soul…..who could not like that?"

"So..." He leans forward again, now steepling his fingers against each other as his eyes search hers. "Which is this, birthday girl? Dream, or reality?"

"Ahh…" she grins, pointing a finger to air, "But I surely do not dream, and for those who doth not remember dream…would call this reality."

Leaning back, Christopher claps, fairly beaming at her. "An impromptu recital? I should say you'd feel out-of-place in a bar." At that exact moment, their orders arrive. Christopher looks at his, examining it at length before finally lifting his spoon. "Well, it isn't a cake, but I believe it is still customary to make a wish?"

"The last bit was of my own thoughts." she chuckles softly, smiling further at the arrival of their desserts. Looking up, she grins again. "I suppose. But what of tradition?" she says in jest, then looks up at the ceiling in thought. "Hm. Ok, I got it." Giving him an approving nod, she takes a bite of the sugary dessert and instantly nods again. "Mm!"

Christopher smiles softly. "You've caught me. I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty on Poe, but I think he would have approved." Delicately, he samples his own gelled dessert. His tongue flicks over his lips as he looks up to her, his cheeks brightening slightly. "Oh..." Discretely, he gestures for her to wipe at her lips.

"That would be wonderful to know, if he did." She grins to herself, then tilts her head again to his gesture. "Oh!" covering her mouth, she finds the stray piece with her tongue, and then wipes her mouth with a napkin. "So what about you? What brings you to this city?"

Part of him had hoped she'd miss it, so he could again be chivalrous. And, perhaps, showcase his own light fingers. "Nothing so interesting as education, I'm afraid: I'm here on business."

"Business?" she asks, then takes another bite. The question was open to be rhetorical and allowed to be set aside should he not want to continue, but she was very curious.

"...Oh, yes." He does humor her with an answer. "I'm afraid it's very dry work, though: public relations for a 'behind-the-scenes' sort of energy firm. I'm here to make friends and influence people, you might say."

"That sounds…like fun?" a smile tugs at the side of her mouth, where he doesn't seem to interested in the thought as well. Or at least, that's how he speaks of it. "An energy firm, and you as a spokesperson of sorts? I'm afraid you seem to be in the same boat as me."

"Oh?" She's already beginning to reflect his own aptitude for conversation, turning the situation back onto him in that manner. "Tell me, in what way are we kindred spirits?"

"You could say that, I guess." She smiles, poking at the dessert and inspecting how it's surface reacts. "You don't really seem like some sort of lackey. Besides, with what you've already said, there's no way you can find fulfillment in talking to annoying people all day."

"Well, I fill my free time with its own...worthwhile...distractions." She might not realize right away that he is looking directly at her as he speaks; regardless, he goes back to his own treat quite quickly.

She does not catch his gaze at first, having become enveloped in how the gelatinous treat can hold her spoon all it's own. Eventually though, she looks up, and catches him right as he looks down. "I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with teaching…but I'd rather not spend the rest of my days telling little Timmy to wipe his nose and not drip into his finger-paints." she shudders with a small smile.

"Then...don't." His reply is simple, natural, and logical. "There would be many other places, I imagine, where that combination of skills can be useful. Take, for instance, my work: advertising."

Looking up, "That sounds like an office job, though. As much as I hate the sun, and as much as it hates me…" she giggles, "…I'd rather be outside, taking pictures."

"We use those in advertising, you know. Instead of _teaching_ someone about art, it's using _art_ to persuade someone. Or, if you prefer, to _teach_ them a new appreciation for something." Spoon still in hand, he gestures to her. "Really not that far apart at all."

She points back at him with her own spoon, with a challenging grin. "Perhaps, but do you send your little artists to…say….Africa to take pictures for teaching?" she grins, "Now that would be a job and a half. Danger aside, I'd risk getting gnawed on by a cheetah just to see one in person."

"Well, I'll have you know that our focus _is_ renewable resources, so the bulk of the stills we use in our adverts _are_ nature shots. Not necessarily from Africa, mind you." Something about his very presence was intoxicating, not unlike the scent in his jacket: he was _very_ charming, in that regard.

"Hm." She looks thoughtful, then to him as if expecting something. "Well…where do I sign up?" she grins and laughs softly, then goes back to her dessert.

So it had gone: this "Christopher" was nothing but a perfect gentleman all the night through, despite repeated attempts to flirt with her. Whenever Aria finally made it to sleep, sleep was surprisingly slow to come, and when she woke, she felt that it did little to help her. There was a dream, a strange dream, perhaps even an embarrassing dream about a man...but his face remained hidden.

Jolting upright in her bed, Aria blinks a few times while combing her fingers through her hair. No matter how many times she tried to go back to sleep, the memory of -that dream- kept returning into her mind. Sighing heavily, she falls back against her pillow and stares at the ceiling. It was time to get up, but she didn't really want to. She felt completely exhausted, like sleep had come, but her mind hadn't taken the time to rest at all. A few hours later though, she is walking down the street and towards her college. The dream still fresh in her mind. And you were going on about not dreaming. She thinks to herself. Arriving at her classroom, she finds a public notice about the class being cancelled for the day. Soon enough, she's out in the courtyard, sitting by a tree and flipping boredly through a magazine.

"Pardon me, but..." A somehow familiar voice breaks through her reverie, high and a little feminine, but still very smooth and charming in its own way. "Could you direct me to the parking lot nearest...Graham Hall? That was where I was parked, but I seem to have lost my w..." He trails off upon seeing the person he speaks to in detail. "Aria...?" Surely enough, it is Christopher, now in a full three-piece suit and dark sunglasses. The blond hair, though, is a dead giveaway.

The moment the voice uttered the words of the Hall and parking lot nearby, Aria was pointing in that direction with her nose still in the magazine. When called by name, she blinks and looks up in surprise. "Hm? Chris? Oh, hey!" she gets up, dusting the stray blade of grass from her jeans. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was catching up with one of the professors-he's a friend of mine, you understand-and... Well, this must be _your_ school." He smiles warmly, offering her a handshake. "Such a fortunate meeting. We'll have to commemorate it, of course. Are you busy at all?"

A brow perks at the hand offered to her, but she shakes it anyway. "Well, my only class for today was cancelled." she snorts amusedly, "So I guess I'm not busy." Truth was, she didn't feel like going back to the apartment. Her -lovely- neighbor and friend was going to be home all day, and frankly she didn't want to deal with her, or the memory of that odd dream. "So, which Professor are you friends with?"

"Professor Trudeau." Christopher replies evenly, pointing across the commons. The name he uses is from the theatre department. "You see, his wife's brother is an executive with a market analysis firm, and... Well, you see, now this is becoming more like _business_. And I thought I was done for the day."

She chuckles in reply, "My apologies. Here, I'll show you were the parking lot is." she takes a step, and then remembers her things that are still by the tree. Turning and crouching, she scoops up the Fashion Magazine she'd been flipping through and tosses it into her letter-carrier bag. Wiping it off as well, she pulls it onto her shoulder.

"Hmm." Christopher points to the magazine as she puts it in the bag. "Is that for a class, or a matter of personal interest?" He carries nothing, aside from being immaculately dressed. As before, he goes from topic to topic in conversation, asking questions about _her_.

"Oh, it's nothing really. Just to look at and see what's going on." she shrugs, trying to dismiss the topic. As she leads him across the campus, odd stares are given from every corner. Aria seems to notice this, then looks back at Christopher. Well, she could understand it. Why they were staring, that was. She couldn't really help but to do the same.

The attention of all the other people seems to slide off of him. The only person he addresses-or even seems to look in the eye-is Aria. "Ah, I see. You know, there is much to be learned about set construction and model dressing from those pictures, though. And, of course, the effects of digital imaging on art as a modern, practical art form." That was a stream of rather large words, which he sums up succinctly: "By which I mean, of course, enhancing pretty pictures to sell things."

She nods, smiling wryly, "Some of the ads are completely pathetic." shaking her head in disdain, "I swear I could've done better if…" stopping there, and laughing softly. "You sure do seem to have a lot of free time for a spokesperson." her eyes are trying to find his through his sunglasses, "Does that mean your up before the break of dawn, working hard on the plow?" she grins.

"It means..." Christopher pauses, looking up at the sky. "It means I try very hard to impress people as quickly as possible. It's something I've always aspired to have some degree of proficiency at." Again, he looks to her with that winsome smile. "So, how am I doing?"

Her lips purse to hold back a smile, "You get an A+" chuckling again, "Impress quickly, and get away from just as quickly, eh?" Rounding a corner, the parking lot is before them.

"You might say I have the aspirations to be a playboy." Though she can't see it behind his sunglasses, he still winks as he says that. "Honestly? I can't imagine most people would do any differently. We all are, basically, beings of leisure, wouldn't you say?"

Aria has bitten her lip, hard, to keep from giggling at that comment. She nods her head in reply to his question, though, then waits for him to get his bearings. "I can't really see you as a playboy…no offense." she pauses, "You seem a bit smart just be wasted as eye-candy all day."

"I had certain advantages in that regard." Christopher looks to her with as they come upon his vehicle: a white European import. "Money _does_ buy education, regardless of what they might tell you. Now, you should try to learn everything you can, here, or you might suffer that very tragic fate, however." He speaks with the presumed benefit of experience, but he seems somewhat young: he couldn't yet be thirty.

She seems to pay little to no mind to the car, and moreso on what he is saying. Nodding in agreement, she looks away for a second then returns with a mischievous stare. "So, what have you in mind? Protect me from drunken natives again…?" she laughs softly, grinning.

"Well, if I could persuade you to get into a near-stranger's car, I was feeling like some tea, and some company." As he speaks, he opens the door for her, heedless of the stares he is still gathering.

"Eh, if you tried anything…I'd sock ya like I did Dan last night." she grins brilliantly, in jest but there is still a hint of seriousness in her tone. Again, she notices the stares, but shakes her head with a laugh and gets inside. Her satchel is placed in the floorboard between her feet while she buckles.

The interior of the car is, of course, immaculate: black leather upholstery, deeply tinted windows, and even a "new car" smell. Christopher slides in the other side, taking his seat and closing the door. After he starts the car, he removes his sunglasses and looks over at her. "Of course, if the lady has any preference for location, I would be honor-bound to abide."

When his eyes are finally revealed, and find hers, there is the faintest hint of color rising in her cheeks. "No, no. Tea sounds just fine." she smiles, waving her palm-forward hands at him. "I bet you know of better places, anyway." a laugh burbles through her as she looks out her window.

"Oh, sometimes, I _do_ put on something a little less...intimidating...just so I can visit the colorful smaller shops without drawing too much attention." He shifts the car-which runs whisper-quiet-into reverse. After checking over his shoulders, he whips the car out of the parking space with surprising speed.

"It's not that you seem…intimidating, it's just that you don't see many men walking around in suits these days." Aria muses while still looking out the window. Of course, those who had fancy cars had to drive 'fancy' as well, or was that just encoded in male DNA? Her eyes are mostly out her side window, glancing at him every so often. On her left hand, her thumb is rotating a ring on her pinky finger. The ring looks simple, but on a closer glance it is found to be a complete, rounding loop speckled-jade, nothing more.

"Well, you and I must not live in the same circles." He affords himself a laugh at his own joke, then explains, "I see far too many men in suits when I'm back at 'the office.' Sometimes...I just want to get away from it all. I'm sure that's understandable. Or, rather, I hope it is."

Nodding, "It is, though if you want away from all those suits…I would think that you wouldn't be wearing one while merely visiting old friends." she grins, trying to catch his eye.

"Well, it _was_ mostly a business trip." He does look at her as he replies, the twinkle in his eye an unmistakable invitation to join him for some mirth. And he does continue to drive every bit as she might expect, with one exception: he rarely breaks the speed limit. He will accelerate up to it quickly, and then stop.

"Uh huh." Chuckling, she looks out her window again once he looks forward. After a bit of silence, "So, near-stranger, where are you taking me?" That amusement is still in her tone, and if he were to look at her - her reflection in the window she's gazing into would have a large smile.

"Well, that _is_ a very good question." He raises the eyebrow closer to her and smirks. "I could take you any number of places, but for now...I believe I'll try that Indian place I used the last time I was here. They have a _wonderful_ green tea."

"Oh no. A word of caution." she turns to face him, "Green tea makes this girl hyper." chuckling, she looks ahead of them and gasps. They were coming up to a red light, and on the right side of the road stood the now hung-over Daniel from just the yester night. Aria sinks down into her seat, almost violently, as if not trusting the tinted windows. "He's not looking, is he?"

"I don't believe so." Christopher stops obediently at the light, glancing sidelong out of the car. "You know, I've half a mind to park the car and give him a thrashing, for principle's sake."

"Ha!" she stares at him, to gauge whether or not he's joking. When deciding he's not, "No need. As much as I'd enjoy watching, there's no need for that. Thank you though." as the light becomes green and they pull on, she sits back up and peeks over her shoulder. "Phew. I think I hit him hard enough last night, it looks like he had a puffed lip." she pumps her elbow in victory and grins to herself, "He's lucky I didn't give him the old bear-paw to the throat." a fist is shaken menacingly.

"Bear-paw?" He looks at her briefly with the odd word. "Isn't that an Eastern technique?" The radio remains off, another oddity in a modern automobile. He seemed to be more intent on actually _talking_ to her.

"Bear-paw, bear-claw. Something like that. It's an open handed strike." she demonstrates, sweeping her hand partly over his chest and hovering a few inches from his neck, directly under his jaw. "If you have your leg either wrapped around your opponents, or just strike behind the knee, you can give them a nice fall." laughing evilly, "A friend of mine is a black belt in just about every sort of Martial Art, he teaches me stuff once in a while. I don't ask often because he tries to make me call him Sensei-Awesome." her eyes rolls.

Christopher smiles faintly at this comment, though his eyes briefly gain a decidedly masculine-and aggressive-shimmer. "Hmm. Does he practice with those practice-swords? I might like to try my fencing against him."

"Shinai-Kendo swords? Or just plain fencing?" she tilts her head to the side, "He does Kendo, that's one of his newest hobbies. I think I might invent a fold-up Shinai to use when I need a good beating-stick."

"No, no, I mean...my style against his. It's a hobby of mine, you see." With as much "leisure" time as he seemed to have, it wouldn't be any wonder if he had a number of hobbies. "I so rarely find good opponents, though."

"Ohhh…" she murmurs, "I bet he'd like the challenge, he's always looking for a new sparring partner." This was almost odd. She'd only met the man last night, and already they were having a conversation as if they'd known each other for quite some time. Aria was almost reluctant, but found it very intriguing.

"Unfortunately, it seems he may be in for a stay of execution: I didn't bring my _epee_ on this trip." He says even those dark words with just a hint of a smile: he always seems to have that almost bored air about him, like a thrill seeker. "Ah, here we are." He points to a sign for _Shukri's_ above their heads. "I, for one, _will_ order the green tea. But, again, you may order what you wish. My treat."

"Green tea sounds good to me, but remember my warning." the last part is in almost a singsong tone; an index finger is waved at him as well. Following his lead, she gets out and walks alongside him. "So, what else do you do? Other than business, fencing, and daydreaming about Playboy-hood." that mischievous air is radiating from her.

"Well, I also take near-strangers to odd restaurants for tea and desserts. You can't forget that part." Christopher winks to her as he opens the door, again standing aside for her. "But, ah, I have a few other hobbies. Wine collecting, literature... Nothing exceptionally conversation-worthy, I'm afraid. What about you?"

She smiles inwardly as he holds the door open, "Just about the same, nothing entirely interesting. About the only thing worth mentioning would be that I like to compose. But even then…" she shrugs.

"Compose? As in, music?" He follows in behind her, his tone raising in pitch as he speaks to her of this. "Well, that is a wonderful pastime, if I may say. Creating art? I don't do that, I'm afraid: I have to be content to enjoy the creations of others."

Aria nods, "You should try. Everyone is able to create, most just judge themselves to closely to the talent of others." she grins over her shoulder as the host seats them. "And yes, music. Mostly piano, though I do sometimes dabble with the trumpet."

"'If music be the food of love'," he muses briefly as he pulls her seat out for her. "Tell me, what types of music do you like?"

"Em, a little of everything. But lately I've been leaning more towards instrumentals only." her eyes look around the room before falling back on him, "I've been trying to do some actual lyric writing too, but I don't really think I'm going to waste my time on that." she laughs softly, "You should check out the computer-composition program 'Finale', it's really neat."

"If not for myself, then for those that compose _our_ music, certainly." He doubtless speaks from a business sensibility again. The room is simply arrayed, but wonderfully so: luxurious-looking red tapestries, with silver embroidery at the edges, adorn the walls, and simple _sitar_ music plays overhead. "Instrumentals. I'd wager you primarily compose by emotion, then?"

A warm smile crosses through her, "Yes, but that would be the basis for all music, wouldn't it? You don't always need words in a song to understand what the composer was feeling at the time, or is trying to paint in the mind's eye of the listener."

"That, I would say, is the true purpose of art-at-large; it is only when people started adding words to it that we lost sight of that." A plate of bread and various sauces of sundry colors is produced; Christopher takes of this, tearing the bread in the way native to the people of India and eating it accordingly. "I believe I'm ready to order. And you?"

He has her full agreement on the subject. "Sad to say, but yes." when the bread is offered, she doesn't seem very interested. "I'll have the tea you were talking about." That reminding glimmer flashes through her eyes.

"Very well." Looking up at the server, he says, calmly, "Green tea, please, with two cups." He looks back to her almost immediately. "A picture is worth a thousand words. Well, I'd say that words wholly miss the meaning so many times."

Smiling, "Indeed," she pauses, fiddling with that ring again, "The music department just got a Grande piano in their main lobby. The director has been looking for anyone to come and play, just for the sake of bringing the public eye to the department. I was thinking of giving it a shot, just to see if any of my works are approved."

"Well?" Christopher leans back, holding his hands out expectantly. "What is the worst they could tell you? 'No'? I believe you've probably heard that in the past."

"Not really." she looks down timidly, fixing her gaze on the table. "I've never let anyone hear any of my songs. Not even Taila, and she lives next door." It's almost obvious now, how slightly introverted the girl is. Not wanting to go to parties, afraid to pursue the degree she really wishes…

"Look, then." He reaches across the table, lifting her chin with the tip of his fingers so her gaze meets his. For just a moment, those blue orbs seem fathomless. "People have turned you down before, I'm sure, but you lived. Perhaps they'd be impressed. Perhaps they wouldn't be. But there's only one way you'll know for certain."

Pupils dilate, and a pink rises in her cheeks again. Her emerald eyes flit back and forth between his, unblinking as he speaks. When finished, she notes that his fingers are still at her chin and her blush reddens as she leans back and tries to regain herself. "True, but one can't help but to be nervous…hm?" she sounds more like she's trying to self-assure than ask, "I mean, it is only human nature to be closed in about one's works."

"It's human nature to be afraid of failure. But you don't need to be tied to that: your work will be just as complete whether they call it a success or not. So long as you, the artist, are happy." He withdraws his hand, reluctantly, _almost_ stroking her chin before he does so. "As far as being nervous...would you know you were alive if you had no fear at all?"

Her fingers touch at her cheeks, and she seems to become even more embarrassed by how much warmth is radiating from them. She nervously smiles, "You're too fluent for your own good." glancing up at him a few times, then to various other places, but nowhere in particular.

"Merely a reflection of the poetry I've read..." He again gives her that warm smile. "I don't really create, you'll recall, only reflect what I've seen."

It had been almost a week; the painfully free-spirited "Chris" had disappeared back into his world. The dreams, meanwhile, only intensified. Sometimes, rarely, he appeared in them, usually as the answer to the ordeals. More frequently, there was an overbearing need, external and foreign, that was so powerful, it seemed as if it might swallow her sense of identity whole. This dream...was one of the latter.

In the dreamscape, she is filled with fear and desire, simultaneously. It was hard to explain: was she afraid of her desires, or desirous of her fears? In a way, the two thoughts formed a symbiosis, each one feeding the other. And then...there was his face, his form again. Nude, now, before her, and every bit as breathtaking as she might have imagined any man could be. As he approaches her, she does not move away, not in her dreams, though part of her mind screams that this is not, can not be right.

Over her bed, there is a single sound: the sound of metal scraping free of a sheath. There is a single figure: tall and lithe, clad in tight black leather and standing at the foot of her bed. Her window is open; bypassing all that was child's play. And now, semi-aware of what must be playing out in her subconscious, he can not help but smile. "My dear," he says in his flowing voice, "please, allow me to give you a death all those...plebeians...would not deserve."

Within her mind's eye, deep down where only dreams could come and go, becoming lost forever and some to be recalled, Aria is frozen. More than just desire and fear, there is a coarse mixture of other things as well. Confusion and acceptance, the need to run away, and the want to move closer. As in all of these dreams she had been plagued (or blessed?) with lately, she can only stand and gape. Even if she is immobile in mind, her outward body is the antithesis. In her bed, she is flipping from one side to the other every so often, further tangling her sheets around her nude form. Brows are furrowed, though slanted to mirror the fear that is rippling through her. With each twitch, her nails dig further into her pillow. From so many dreams, the cotton casing has taken quite a beating.

Patiently, the blond figure in the half-mask crouches, watching his prey writhe. This was always the part he enjoyed the most: picking the perfect time to capture the moment, and to preserve it. In either hand, he holds a knife, and one of the blades now traces its way along her bare throat. All the while, he is unaware of a thin, grayish mist seeping into the room from the window.

Finally, he leans back, raising both knives above his head. In just the right place, at just the right time, not a bit of blood need be spilled. Not here, at least. In the morning, she would become another missing person, never to be found again. Just behind the slender, dark form, a still-darker figure stands upright. Just as the knives begin to move down, there is a burst of light-deep violet, with overtures of red and silver. Then, there is the sound of metal dropping against her bedroom floor: the knives fall there, and her would-be assailant clutches at his own hands as his face contorts in sudden discomfort.

It is that sound that is the savior from her odd dreamscape, but only furthens the nightmare as a whole. The girl's eyes shoot open, and at first she acts as one normally would after having a vivid dream and sighs, pushing her face into her pillow to groan softly. But then a new chill creeps up her spine, and that one sense that most might just argue suddenly bursts to life; the sense of space. She is not alone.

Turning away from her pillow, her eyes adjust to the darkness as best they can, but only see a mass, shadowy figure. Tensing, she blinks hard in hopes that lids would curl back to find nothing other than a trick, but no such thing was allotted. More adrenaline, a violent surge floods her veins, ordering her body to move. To her dismay, though, movement is limited due to her entanglement in her thin covers. All she can do is sit up and scoot back, only as far as the headboard of her bed allows, and then curl there, fighting the straightjacket she has accidentally woven around herself.

As the blond figure turns to see who struck the weapons from his hands, the shadowy figure-only now resolving into a solid entity himself-takes the slender man's arm and pulls him back, setting him up for another vicious shot. This one runs directly into his chest, and is accompanied by another burst of that ethereal shimmer. What she sees then is...impossible to believe, except that it is _there_.

From the fingers of the shadowy figure, a translucent beam of light extends, arcing out and through the other figure, erupting visibly from his back like a blade. It is this bizarre energy that provides the light: it seems as wispy as a cloud, but still breaks flesh...and glows a deep purple, occasionally rippling with red or silver. This iridescence illuminates, finally, her benefactor's face: he looks to be a stern, pale man with solid features and short, black hair. Then, the light is gone.

Free from whatever had transfixed him, the blond man-was it really Christopher?-collapses onto his knees for just a moment, his eyes wide as he gasps, "...Y...you...!" Nothing more is said, primarily because there is not time: in less time than it would take her to blink, he is gone, as silently and as rapidly as he had come. Finally, she is alone with this mysterious stranger in her dark bedroom.

While her eyes had taken in the peripheral glimpse of the man she had grown to call…friend?...her gaze is still fixed on the remaining figure. Her pupils nearly touched the rims of her emerald irises, not only to take in what bare fraction of light was offered, but in pure-unmitigated fear. The young woman is so far pressed against her bed that the headboard is beginning to creak forebodingly, and her trembling is causing the wooden frame to shudder gently against the wall.

The man does not speak directly, instead kneeling down to pick up the knives on the floor. When he finally _does_ say something, his voice is deep and quiet, but still seems to fill the somehow stifled air of the room. "I am sorry you had to see that. It would be better for us both if you forgot all about it."

The frame slams against the wall loudly when the man stirs, due to the startle and need to move further away. Once he has spoken, her eyes blink, and finally some color begins to return to her face. The shock is starting to wear off, it seems. Her first reaction is an incoherent expulsion of air that is a mixture of words, with different feelings attached. It almost sounds scolding, sarcastically amused, along with many other things.

"Wha…" she pauses to swallow, keeping her eyes mainly on the man but peripherally focusing on where the other figure had fallen, Christopher? "What did you do to him? Why…why were you both here? Who are you? I…" There was too much to say and ask all at once, and then something prompts in her, and her eyes widen. Clenching at those sheets, she starts to manage her way across her bed, away from _him_.

"That man is dangerous." He looks toward the window as he speaks, the half-lighting casting long shadows on his squarish features. "It is my belief that he came here tonight with the intention of killing you." He says that very matter-of-factly, content to leave the statement unexplained. Similarly, he says _nothing_ about his identity.

For the longest time, there is nothing but silence, save the struggling with the sheets. Eventually, she is mostly broken of them, but clings to them nonetheless. The long pause was not to only focus attention on the bed spread, but the stranger's words. When she finally speaks, the words are excruciatingly slow, careful and calculated, "How am I to know that you aren't here to kill me…."

"I haven't yet, have I?" She can see him focus his eyes on her for just a moment. If it were even a little brighter in the room, she might have missed the dim purple glow that seemed to come from the back of his eyes for just a moment; it came with a vague sense of _invasion_, as if he was somehow looking _through _her. Moving to one side, he looks directly at a wall and folds his hands behind his back. "If you are nude, and uncomfortable, please take this opportunity to clothe yourself." He is directive, aloof, and perhaps even a bit harsh in his tone. Already, he seems like Christopher's exact opposite.

There is a small twitch starting in her neck, which slightly jolts her head back, a sign of perhaps insult or unease. Another chill moves through her, but it is then replaced with a flare of suspicion, and contempt towards his tone. "Yet…" he can hear her mutter gruffly in a whisper, while climbing over her bed cautiously to the other side. He is standing next to her dresser. One of the drawers opens behind him and pauses, he is in the way but the sound of fishing can be heard anyway. After a time, with the sounds of clothing being pulled over skin, the creak of weight being put on the bed echoes. When he turns again, she is back where she started - leaning against the headboard. But her gaze has hardened, and there is a wooden baseball bat close to her right hand. She stares at him, expecting more of an explanation, pleading for one, even.

"I also know," he says smoothly as he turns, "that you will not be happy until you understand exactly what has happened here." His accent has the barest traces of...Greek, perhaps? Still, his wording and phrasing borders on the anachronistic, as does the way he kneels down to be more comfortable. "My name..." A pause, and then, "...Please, call me Joseph, if it suits you."

That harsh gaze of hers warms in sarcastic amusement, her left brow perking just barely. _Ya think? _She ponders to herself. When again he moves, to kneel now, she tenses. Not only are her nerves visible in how her eyes seem to flash, but just how tight they are wound shows in the way her muscles flex. The drawer she had gained access to only offered her pajama apparel she never used, and her underwear. Clad in a pair of gray shorts and a navy tank top, every sort of reaction she has physically is visible. Her hand had clenched the neck of the bat as he moved, but the grip loosens when he finally introduces himself. Again, calculated, she replies, but coldly. "….Aria."

"...A pleasure to meet you, Aria." He nods his head once in greeting. "I am sorry you had to come into possession of this knowledge in this way, but I know what he intended for you, and I...chose to have you live in a world forever changed, as opposed to..." His words trail off. It was a poor explanation, but... "Tell me, what have you inferred about the man that was just here?"

Her shoulders bounce with what he says at first, amused with what he chooses to say. A pleasure…? Just a moment ago he was requesting that she forget! As he continues, her stare becomes more and more skeptical. She even thinks to pinch herself, just to make sure, but does not…due to his question. Her head tilts to the side, and her eyes break away from him and move to where 'the man' had been last. "Ah…" she blinks, unable to find words. "I…I don't know." spitting it out, she looks back at him with wild eyes and throws her hands into the air. "Fuck! I don't know what the hell is going on! Maybe I'm just dying from carbon monoxide poisoning or something!"

"That might be simpler. You're right. More than one person who has been told what I am about to tell you has wished for death. Some have brought it upon themselves." His deep brown eyes look toward the still-open window. "'There are more things in Heaven and Earth,'" he muses, quoting Shakespeare with proper diction. "...The world is not so simple as you believed it to be. I am sorry this truth has come to you this way. Tell me, Aria, do you believe in ghosts? In souls?"

One corner of her mouth begins to twitch, as if begging to smile wryly. Voluntarily shaking for a second, to calm her nerves, she regains her stoic stare. "I…guess…?" If this were a dream, she might as well entertain it. It was undoubtedly interesting, after all. Or maybe a different word could be used. A C.T. would be nice though, once she woke up.

"What about creatures of folklore?" Those same dark brown eyes now bore into her again. This time, however, it is simply an intense stare, illuminated by the moon's half-light. "Have you given any thought to those things?"

The connection makes her blink nervously, but she regains herself, sitting taller. "Like…zombies?" her brows furrow again. "I think I'd leave those things to the novelists and movie-dudes." a pause, "Why are you asking me these weird questions…?"

"..." There is a pause, and then a sigh. Joseph turns his face back to the open window. "...Some are more accepting than others. Christopher, you see_, is_ such a creature. Or, rather, is a type of creature upon which many stories are based. Some of the tales are true, some are not."

If it were not the scene she'd witnessed shortly after waking up, she would gladly have wielded her wooden weapon right then. Even with having seen what she had, she still wanted to brandish that baseball bat and demand a more convincing explanation. Something her mind could grasp. Though, her thoughts did search, attempting to entertain this whole idea further. If Christopher were any sort of 'movie-monster'…"…Are you trying to tell me that Chris was a vampire or something…?" she chokes out.

"If you wish to define it so narrowly, then...yes." Passive eyes only slowly blink. "He was human, but has become something that can only continue its existence by taking something from other, ordinary people." Then, what about the bright burst of light that had come from Joseph's palms? Or his eyes?

"What about you…?" She asks quickly, just as she had when he'd told her that Christopher had intended to harm her. Even with all of this, this that seems so utterly fantastic in the true sense, she keeps that outer shell hardened. A shield, so to speak.

There is another marked pause, and then, "...My father...was Christopher's progenitor. That is why he would not fight me. My mother was...untouched. 'Human', you might say." Those words seem to come from dry lips.

That emerald gaze darkens, "Yeah? Well I'm 'human' too…last time I checked. So why don't you try that in something I can understand, hun? Just spill it, already?" Could her patience have possibly been growing thin…?

"Think of me as a half-breed." Somber words. "My soul, like his, is trapped in an undying body, but I am still able to eat, for instance, to gain what I need to live. He may eat, but it does him no practical service."

Some form of relief or calm starts to wash over the girl, and that is visible in how her muscles start to slack. She even curls her legs, fixing one ankle over the other. Leaning against that backboard so harshly had started bruising, and so to soothe, she leans down over her curled feet, resting her elbows on the bed and her chin atop her palms. "Go on…"

Another heavy sigh. "For such a long story, there is little else to tell." He speaks with the heavy tones of one who does not wish to speak at all. "My history is...surprisingly sparse. Did you have any specific questions?"

Staring, for a while, and sizing him up as well, she perks a brow again. "Why did you save me…?"

"It was the right thing to do?" His tone makes it obvious he is not certain she will accept that answer, but at the same time...it does not seem he'll offer another.

The scrutinizing expression doesn't seem to falter, "Do you save all of his victims?" It was a simple woman's trick she was using. If the clearest of answers could not be found, ask with different words. All the while, the back of her mind kept churning. Still trying to understand what had just happened.

"...No." Joseph seems to lean back against the wall, perhaps from fatigue or perhaps from disappointment. For just a moment, he looked old, very old, around his eyes, which seemed more sunken than usual in the moonlight. "No... You would be the first, actually. You are fortunate I was in this city while he was."

"I suppose so." Her voice seems a little disappointed as well, hoping for a more interesting answer than that. Silence washes through the room, and takes its time in bathing each crevice and corner. Aria is leaning back, holding herself up with her hands when she finally speaks up again. "So…do you think that he's going to come after me again? Or…"

"That is difficult to say." Again, the man's words cut through the air with a paradoxically blunt force. "His pride is no doubt wounded, but it is my belief that he will stay his hand or risk my further involvement. That would be...bad for him...in sundry ways." Joseph's word choices all lean toward the Classical or archaic. Looking over at her suddenly, he adds, "You're taking this quite well."

There wasn't a change with what he says at first, no more than a calculating pair of eyes. But with the last, the girl gains a wild-eyed and amused grin. "I'm still wondering if I'm asleep right now, or if I'm going to snap out of this and find myself in an asylum." she chuckles, somewhat darkly, then looks back at him. "For someone who doesn't seem to socialize much, you sure are chatty there…cowboy."

The last word, in particular, merits her with a single arched eyebrow, drawing attention to the lines in his face. Like his eyes, they seem deeper than they otherwise might be, etched by a trick of the moonlight. "...I could say nothing, and be on my way, if you prefer?" It was a very simple statement.

Hands wave in the air a few times, "Now, now, I didn't mean it like that. If I wanted you out, I would say so." Stifling a laugh at the thought itself, she rubs at her middle-eye. "Ohy…whether or not this is real, I'm writing a book." The statement sounds like one muttered aloud rather than internal thought, which it should have been. "So, Christopher was going to kill me, I still don't get why but that's ok…You saved me, for the sake of 'justice!'" Giving the word a strong tone, "And now, here we are. There is some crazy jedi-guy in my room, and I'm just sitting on my bed with a baseball bat. Wow."

"Jedi...?" Joseph repeats the word, resting his head against the wall behind him as he does so. "I've been called many things, but...that is definitely a first." Apparently, he took mirth from the comment, but he also did not show it. "Christopher's motives are simple: he is a predator, and he would have been one even if he had led a completely mundane life. In many ways, he was the best, and the worst, to receive his...'gifts'." There is a marked inflection of distaste on the last word.

The madness is only temporary, for soon her interest sparks. Curiosity would be a better word to describe. "Gifts…?" She mirrors, leaning forward slightly. "What of you then? Since…you're half-brothers, and all."

Joseph looks at her from the barest corner of his already-too-dark eyes, which narrow into thin slits. "Of a sort. I suppose." He inhales-an act that, somehow, seems incongruous with his presence-and speaks smoothly as he again looks forward. "Often, one manifests aspects, extensions of one's personality or of pre-existing abilities." He does not say much more than that.

Her eyes only close, and she sighs. "Ok, I get it." Fixating a pillow before she dares, she situates herself against her backboard again. "So, if Chris decides to bug me again, then what? Are you going to burst through a window and save me again? Or is there some sort of weak point for massive damage that I should know about?" Her arms cross as she speaks, and even with such aggravation that he wouldn't tell her anything, she manages a smirk.

"Without any help?" Joseph looks over at her again, his words still leaden. "In all likelihood, you'd be dead before you hit the ground. He is fast, very fast, and silent when he chooses to be. I was able to ambush him here; had it not been for that, the encounter would have been substantially different."

"I was only kidding!" Trying to save her own pride, she shakes her head. "So, if anything…you'll just wait for him to try and get to me again? If he tries?" she pauses, looking at the ceiling. "I never thought I'd have actual interesting men trying to stalk me…" sarcasm and that insane tone lace her words again.

"No, no. I doubt he'll return, but he _is_ capable of surprise. I doubt he'd risk confronting me." If that statement seems odd in light of Joseph's own admission of Christopher's greatest strengths, he does not show it. "So, now...you have a choice." Joseph stands up, looking at her fully. For just a moment, his eyes seem to be lit from behind with a violet glint, and he says, "Do you return to your life? Pretend, perhaps, this is but a dream? Or do you explore the world as it is, perhaps as it _truly_ is? How much is truth worth to you? I warn you: these things can not be easily forgotten, no matter how much you may wish to do so."

"Do you really think I can forget what has already happened?" She blurts quickly, staring at him with wide eyes. Those eyes regard him for quite some time, but grow distant as well. In thought, no doubt. Again, she muses aloud. "Something like this, dream or not, would burn at me for the rest of my days if I were to ignore it. But then again, I may be running further into a dream that could easily turn into a nightmare…and I don't like those." The conversation with herself is entirely amusing with her wide array of expressions.

"Erg…I suppose this isn't one of those 'choices' where I get to ask, "What happens if…? …Huh?" She looks up at him, seeing that stern yet blank expression. "Well, crud. What the hell. Down the rabbit hole we go?"

"Regardless of your sentiment, many people...most people...who see such things _do_ forget about them. Or choose to ignore them." The violet burning in his eyes abruptly ceases as he closes his eyes. When he opens them, his expression is the same calm resolution she'd seen before. "You're quite certain, then?"

Even with as serious as the situation was, or should have been, the fact that Aria still thinks she is dreaming is ever-present. "As long as you don't try to eat me, or whatever half vampires do…I'm certain." She nods, and then blinks. "Yeah, so what happens now?"

"For now...you should try to rest." Joseph walks over to the still-open window, leaning over it for just a moment before looking back to her. "Pandora's Box could never be closed. At its bottom, it contained Hope. Hope did not throw itself into the world, as all those evils did, but it was the way mortals were meant to cope with all that surrounded them. Little has changed." He speaks no further words, but as she watches, his outline becomes less distinct. Almost before she can rationalize what she is seeing, a thin mist where he had been standing drifts out of the window, leaving no traces of his presence...at all.

That odd man's words had been haunting her for a week now. The words of each man trilled in her mind every moment of each day. How could Christopher be…? He was so kind to her. But, if he truly was, then his kindness was simply the way to get close to her. But how had he found her dorm? Did he follow her? Or had he read her mind somehow? The possibilities were endless, and that was what frightened her most: she had a way of knowing. Would she take it?

Even if he had so suddenly gone from a kind, attractive face, to an icon of evil, she had taken Christopher's advice. Tonight was to be her night. Leaning on the railing, which overlooks a Rotunda, she eyes the many people below organizing the room. Many chairs had been brought into the building, specifically for this event. The piano in the corner glistens with it's recent shining, calling her eye even though she avoids it purposefully.

"You're nervous."

The 'out of the blue' voice behind her causes her to jump, but realization to it's owner brings her to settle back against the rail with a heaved sigh. "Gee, I have no idea how you could have possibly come to that conclusion, Sherlock."

Taila comes into her line of view, "Hey, don't be like that…You're going to do great, I know it." She smiles wholeheartedly, but then looks at her friend's apparel and frowns. "Please…tell me you're not wearing that."

Aria blinks, frowning as well and leaning back to inspect herself. "What's wrong with this?" She had thought that the black blouse and formal slacks she was wearing looked just fine. Obviously not, she decides when looking back up to her roommate's revolted expression.

"Honey, we need to get you something pretty. C'mon." Grabbing her hand, the girl leads Aria away and towards the elevator.

"Hey! We're starting in forty-five minutes! I don't have time for this!"

"You have time to look nice, now shut it and c'mon! The more you fight, the longer we take!"

Her roommate's choice had not been as bad as the shirt she had chosen for her on their "big night out" a month ago. Perhaps the silence between them had given the girl some time to realize how much she had hurt Aria. Then again, Aria had accepted her apology, and then suddenly drew away again not but weeks after her birthday. For the past few days, she had talked to almost no one. That is until she decided to request a performance. Taking one last look over herself in the Women's Bathroom mirror, she twirls one last time and takes in the sight of the outfit chosen for her. It reminded her of the Marilyn Monroe dress in design, only this was a deep crimson color. It complimented her curves without being too revealing or loud, and showed off her best feature. She had always been told that she had a lovely back and shoulders, as if sculpted from marble. But due to her long hair –now pinned up into place with a few curls dangling at each temple—it could never be seen.

Her introduction comes, which comes to a surprise to her as she sprints away from the bathroom and towards the semi-stage entrance. Those heels Taila had put on her were elaborate, black and with ribbons that coils neatly around her ankles. The audience was almost blackened out by the spotlight on the piano. She could see that there were more there than she expected, that could be good…or very bad. Hearing a hoot from the crowd, she blushes and passes a glare for Taila in that general direction. There is but silence as she seats herself at the metal-stringed soundboard, puffs air into the microphone – giving the sound man a nod of approval – before she gathers a breath and places her fingertips over the keys.

A deep chord is what the audience is first plunged into. The deepest of the basses, and then followed by a mid to high-toned melody. It surely is not slow, but not of medium speed either. A sense of fleeting shadow pours over the crowd as the music begins to filter towards dangerous emotion and speed. This dramatic, chest-tightening crescendo lasts for what could be described as many measures before slipping back into a falling, dying tempo. At last, it cuts into but a high melody with no chords. Both her hands are working, dancing gracefully across the white keys as she gives the dampers prompt and demanding orders to follow. Her 'typing' begins to slow, but then erupts into a yet again dark and tempting fate, before cutting off entirely with a single chord, and few high notes after.

A series of three more composures are played, relating in non-traditional fashion before the last on the presentation list did come. Most would probably be curious as to why there had been a working-microphone positioned in front of the girl, since it was not being used. But then others would likely guess that the finale would be a song. Those who guessed are correct. Lowering her chin to take a few meditative breaths, she replaces her fingers over the ivories and begins to play. The melody was in the midriff of the keyboard, the tune not-so-light or deep, but of a nostalgic depth reminding of the Golden Lounge Age. Taking a breath, Aria leans forward and begins to sing.

At first she seems to wary to look out into the audience, but as tension fades she cracks her eyes to peer out and engage them. Reminding herself that it was 'all or nothing', she would try to give her best performance. The song takes no unexpected turns like those before it, but is rather soothing to the ear. She had not a voice to challenge opera stars, but it was angelic in it's own right. Finding soft, whispery pitches before growing to powerful depths of tone. After each verse her voice trails, before picking up again.

"What you bring upon me is unknown in element. I can sense your calling as you're far…away from me. For when you are near, my soul is bursting into flames."

Continuing along, the melody finally reaches a crescendo, along with her voice - reaching for a high pitch and finding it in perfection. A chord is pressed three times, and then allowed to fade as she looks down before back out over the audience as the song ends.

"And it is time that I must go. But I still…want you…to know. You're still…my man." Her voice trails out over an extended mid-note while her fingers tread lightly over the keys and then come to a silken stop.

As the final notes of her performance begin to fade through the auditorium, a shadow boldly steps through the entrance hallway. It strides confidently up the steps as a startled usher stares in quiet disbelief. And for good reason: the figure looks like a caricature of death itself, with what can only be called a tattered black robe that falls to the floor. When the attendant opens his mouth to say something, the hooded figure reaches out to touch his chest with a pale hand. Eyes immediately freeze with a rigor that might be death, in defiance of the gasp that shudders from his lips as he falls to the floor. For its part, the stranger does not even dignify the apparent death by breaking stride. She would be backstage soon, and she would not be alone then.

As the audience breaks into applause, she stands from the piano and gives a few bows of head before heading towards the side of the stage. She did good! Her heart was thumping heavily against her ribcage, threatening to break through with excitement. Should it, she would expect it to merely drop to the floor and dance. She felt like doing that, herself.

When meeting the backstage, she lays her back against the wall as sighs in relief. Hearing the humming still pouring from the audience, she turns to peek back out from the curtains. They enjoyed her show. Her composures, they liked them!

"You have something I need." The voice is icy and monotone, and...directly behind her. The figure stands only inches from her back, the upper half of his face hidden by his hood. The lower part leaves little in the way of comfort: skin pale almost to the point of being cadaverous, and...heavy chains bound around the neck? Almost immediately, he has the air of being...different. Different in a way she might recognize.

It only needed to be a sudden presence to cause her to jump, when her mind was so far gone in what was happening beyond the curtain before her. But as she settles back, fully to the floor from her jump, she is frozen. Something just tells her to be scared, even if she has yet to realize whom the voice belongs to. It does not take long, though. Her own ivory skin, which is so barren at her back due to that dress, becomes gooseflesh. As her head turns so slowly, pupils are nearly invisible in contrast to evergreen-emerald irises, so soaken with fear.

"Good. Then this should go smoothly." A single long finger, cold to the touch, prods her in the middle of her forehead. "You have something I need. Knowledge. He was here. I know he'll keep coming back unless he's stopped. Where is he?" His voice is still leaden, but also paradoxically manages to become raspy. As he speaks, he turns away from her, apparently unconcerned with any action she might take.

To the poke at her third eye, the girl flinches roughly, but is still otherwise immobile. It seemed as though he was going to get just as he wants, as her lips begin to tremble, but then the sound of rushing heels echoes behind them. The sound is nearing.

"Aria, you witch! You did so w-!" The voice stops as the girl rounds the corner and comes to a grinding halt, around five yards away from them. Her brows furrow at first as she stares between the pair. "What's going on?"

The appearance of someone else is enough to prompt her to move. Simply falling downwards, she thinks through her moves while attempting to execute them. Use her left arm to force his away, then her right palm to throttle him in the sternum, and then _run like hell_.

He makes no effort to move away from her strike, and he is completely unfazed when she connects. With good reason, she finds: her hand strikes what feels like an assortment of loosely wrapped, but bladed, metal. It might even draw her blood before she can pull back. He does not even acknowledge her attack, however, looking instead at the intruder.

"Oh, dear," he says in that same uninflected voice she'd heard earlier. "Precisely what I was hoping to avoid." Still, he manages to sound...sarcastic? With a burst of motion, he kneels and places his palms against the floor. Half a second later, the newcomer freezes, her face immediately adopting that same rigidity that had plagued the unfortunate doorman. "Now, I'll ask more directly. Where _is_ he?" The threatening newcomer's voice has become a dull growl by this point, and the emotion is startling in its intensity.

As she does begin to move away, she realizes that her attempt of harm had been for naught. If anything, she'd only damaged herself. Her palm was stinging, and the back of her mind was relaying the sense of warm-moisture there as well. _Good job_. Before she can even manage two lunges towards Taila, she sees her friend's face contort oddly. She falters, but still moves toward and grips the girl's shoulder. "Tai?" Whispering, she hears the voice behind her again. Her heart was tempting the strength of her chest again, but this time it was in a different sort of excitement.

"Leave her alone." Still facing away from him, she turns with still fearful – but angered eyes. "_I don't know where whoever you're talking about is…now leave her alone!"_

"I believe you do. The insufferably whiny man with the pale hair." He does not acknowledge her ultimatum, and his even tone does nothing to hide the sparks of blue malice that peer from under his hood at her. "His essence is all about you. I could even show it to you, if you'd like." This time, when he gestures toward her-holding his arms out loosely at his side, palms pointed toward her-she can see the faintest hints of two bladed chains, one emerging from up either sleeve and ending in a scythe-like claw. Each moves almost like a snake, apparently of their own power. They sweep at her menacingly.

Her adjusted eyes widen further, and her rising anger is washed away quickly. Knocking against her friend's body, Aria snatches at her before she can be pushed over. Had she expected her to move? Clenching tightly to her friend, the pair shuffle over towards the wall. With each shove and step, the lively one keeps her body as a barrier over the other. "I told you, I don't know where he is…! How would I know?" That replaced, unmitigated fear is forming tears in her eyes, now.

"Indeed?" The menacing, unseen figure steps forward, imposing himself in her space psychologically. "The only way he'd abandon his prey was if..." Then, comes the laugh. It was hard to imagine a sound that was more dissonant: that dry, creaky, and hearty cackle that was still unabashedly masculine. "Too bad for you, as I still have a debt to repay." He gestures with his hands, and she can see the blades flying toward her, suspended by some odd blue aura. This man wasn't Death; Death would be more practical, less flamboyant. He seemed to thrive on her discomfort.

"Stop." Another voice. This one more composed...and more familiar. The spark that flew from his palms took the shape of a large curved blade, wreathed in deepest violet...and it struck the chains before they could land, knocking the blades to the ground. Joseph...he could have assembled himself from the air, for all she knew, but there he was, eyes and hands glowing that violet. "I do not know what you hope to accomplish from this, but you should leave. Now!"

What should she say? Or should have said. Seeing those claws soaring forward, her only reaction is to simply drop her roommate to the floor unceremoniously, and then raise her arms to defend her face. A futile gesture, she already knew. Another voice. So sudden and it comes even before her sixth sense can even identify another form amongst them. Wait…Peeking out from between her arms, she sees _him_.

"O-Oh!" Sputtering, she lurches forward – towards Joseph – but then halts. Swinging back, and to the floor, she snakes her arms beneath Taila and glances towards the menace. Was it safe to even think of moving, yet? She had to be safe, now that Joseph was here. Putting so much faith in a man she'd only met once? Even so, this had made the second time he had stopped her from meeting death had it not?

Then, the man in black laughs again. It is no less terrible this time, but it is louder. "Well. If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't recognize me. We'll see if this helps." When he lifts his hand to his hood, the chain has already vanished. But then, she hadn't seen it recoil. A similar paradox reveals itself when he begins to pull his hood downward, over his face. Though the clothing has sleeves, it melts from his form like liquid shadow, despite the intrusion of his arms. When he throws it to the ground, she can see that it is shredded.

Unveiled as he is, she can see why. Those chains she'd seen at his neck and struck in his chest seem to be the bulk of his clothing, with only scraps of black fabric of indeterminate composition peeking from within wraps of metal. Where the blades along the metal draw tight over his form, she can see traces of blood. And the eyes...pupiless, white eyes.

Joseph regards him with narrowing eyes and dawning recognition. "You were killed." He says this very simply, not relaxing for a moment. If anything, he seems more tense.

"Perhaps I still _am_." His pallid face cracks into a bright smile. "You wouldn't believe the bargains I made to get my revenge. But you...you'll try to stop me, I wager. After all, when I succeed, I'll be sending your father to the void in my place."

Her eyes are staring, focused, and yet trying to disprove what is happening before her. Gooseflesh creeps along her arms, causing her to shiver as she hugs her friend close, and listens to the pair as they begin to exchange words. This man…this…horrifying creature…he was looking for Christopher. Hadn't Joseph been near – had he even?- she'd be dead now. Taila…

"Joseph…" She interrupts, calling him. Still on the floor, huddled over the rigid body of another girl, she stares pleadingly at him. "…He did something to her!"

Joseph only tenses at her words; the enemy spits to one side, "The punishment, my dear. You're spared the worst. Until I deal with the favored son." Turning back to the subject of his words, he adds, "I _am_ the Abyss now, half-blood. The pit into which others are thrown. The blackness that consumes all light. The place for which your soul is bound."

Sensing a change in his tone, Joseph only calls out to Aria, "Take her and run! Tell no one!"

What was to happen? She didn't even know if Taila was still alive! Nonetheless, the orders are taken by following ears. Scooping her up, Aria begins to move. More quickly than she would have expected, since they were of the same weight and stature. Epinephrine was running rampant through her system, so it was true what they said about enhanced-strength in the sight of danger. Taking the back door, she stares about after pouring out of the back of the building. Could it have even been safe there? Even if they were away from that _thing_? Deciding it best, she starts towards the dorms.

"How very noble." The response is snide and sneering, but Abyss now fixes Joseph with eyes that should be sightless. "Now, let's see if you deserve to be called his son..." With that, he launches with a flurry: two chains from behind his back and along his arms, pulling outward with enough speed to rip Abyss' own flesh as they rub along his body. These, Joseph parries at the last possible second by throwing up a wall of that same bright energy that seemed to accompany him everywhere. What he does not see is the third chain, slipping through the shadows...and coiling around his leg. Abyss tightens his fist, and it writhes completely up his body, twining over him in a matter of seconds. The blades along the chain prove to be just as effective on Joseph's skin as they are on Abyss'.

His body tightens as pain shoots inward from his flesh. He can feel the blood dripping down his legs already. Before he has time to recover, another coil has bound his other leg. Trying to break free, he soon finds, only exacerbates the pain. "Now, then...let's see what sort of suffering you're capable of...!" Another flourish, and two more bindings loose themselves from the innumerable lengths that surround his body.

Was it such a good idea to leave him? He would be fine…He had done well enough against Christopher! "_I was able to ambush him here; had it not been for that, the encounter would have been substantially different_." Remembering those words, she begins to feel doubt churn in her stomach. But what in the world could she possibly do? Stopping, in the middle of the courtyard, her mind begins to spin.

"Leave him alone!" Not but a few moments after she'd left, the stupid girl has returned. This time, she's thrown one of those heels at the back of the stranger's head, and is slipping off the other to throw it as well. It was a wonder that no one had come back there, and she prayed that no one else did. One (that she knew of) was too many to be affected that night. Taila, who is hidden in the courtyard, behind dense shrubbery.

Joseph can see it all in too-fine detail as Abyss sends blades over his skin. It begins subtly, and delicately: a few light cuts. The escalation is obvious from there; gashed and bloody, he would probably collapse were it not for the ties around his legs. The pain was nearly indescribable, and unlike anything he'd felt in his unique existence. With each beat of his heart, he could feel his life flowing out of him. Each...beat...

Joseph focuses on that for a moment, desperate to block out the pain. Yet, his mind wanders back to the blank look on the face of Aria's friend. And Abyss' attack on Aria, as well; he could see it, yes, but he could also see that it was insubstantial. And his heart... If he were under this level of stress, wouldn't it beat more rapidly?

Aria runs in and throws her shoe at Abyss, but what she sees might startle her: Abyss standing before Joseph, the latter immobile with a lost look in his eyes. As Abyss turns to face her, Joseph starts with a gasp. "Spectres..." he grunts, almost immediately falling to his knees. His body is whole, but his mind... He tries to force out the fog that had been placed on him.

The view is enough to send another pang of fear through her, so much that she nearly drops her next projectile, but she clenches it rather. "I-I said…leave him alone!" reiterating, she throws the other heel. She inches forward, but nowhere nearing the man calling himself an Abyss. Moreso around him, towards Joseph. "Chris isn't here, okay? He bugged me, and Joseph chased him off. I haven't seen him in a week or so…and if Joseph's still here…he hasn't either obviously!" For something so bloodthirsty, would it even be useful to say all this?

Abyss rolls his eyes over to her, barely glaring at her over his shoulder as Joseph gasps for breath. "You don't understand, do you? I still have a debt to repay. And now that your would-be bodyguard is starting to put the pieces together..." When he shifts this time, the chains move with a weightier metallic sound than before. When they strike, they strike in unison, four of them with pointed tips springing from his back and striking at Joseph, who manages to roll aside as they pierce the floor. Joseph didn't care to see if this attack was material or otherwise.

Watching the next attack, she looks back up at the man. What could Joseph have done to him? Was Joseph the one who 'killed' him? Even if she didn't understand the situation, or anything pertaining to what was not normal to her, there was a compulsion to do something. Looking around, she begins filtering through various props, throwing anything heavy at the attacker. A piece of scenery – a wooden shrub, a few iron candelabra stands, anything she could pick up.

Now able to pull himself to his feet, Joseph immediately looks around. If everything to this point had been fairly silent, that would explain the lack of interference. But now... That would surely draw innocent people backstage, which could not be tolerated. He does not have time to plan farther ahead than that, however, before the next blow strikes, a broad sweep aimed at his torso. "Aria!" he calls out as he throws himself back to the floor. "Keep others from coming back here. Do whatever it is you need to do!"

How was it that no one was hearing all of this? Taila had been the only interruption, and that was even before a slew of crashes had been caused. Had everyone already left so quickly? What about clean up? It was unnerving, as much as it was a blessing that no one was rushing back to see what was going on. Aria is pondering over this just as Joseph shouts at her, they were on the same thought-wave.

Rushing the long-ways around the dueling pair, she reaches the opening to the stage, and can already hear some questioning tones. She steps out before the remaining people, and smiles curtly, "Uhm, the theatre club is setting up for practice, and they want it to be a closed one. So if you could…" another crash sounds behind her, "Please leave immediately. So that you don't have to worry, they've offered to put everything away. Please. Go."

As soon as she crosses the threshold, though she's already speaking, her answer is received in the most bleak way imaginable: a few people, those nearest the commotion, sit stupefied. One of them-a young woman-bleeds from the corners of her eyes. Behind her, the conflict seems to continue. At last, Joseph has found a plan, but he'll only have one chance...and under Abyss' relentless attacks, all he can do is dodge and weave. Fortunately, the feeling has returned to his legs: he jumps over one attack and pivots in the air to avoid a second. Abyss...does not move. Were it not for his grin, he'd look almost bored.

Oh lord…Them too. Absolute horror now soaks into her. She was going to die, and Taila was going to be found - dead in the bushes of the courtyard. If she had said no, to Joseph…No, that wouldn't have changed anything. That man had found her by Christopher's signature? All over her. Damn. She should have told him to buzz off when she had the chance. But would that have changed anything? Would she still be alive if she had?

Returning backstage, there is lost hope in her footfalls. Keeping well out of the way, she watches between Joseph and The Abyss. Joseph was still evading attack, but what more could he do?

The material blades, at least, can not pass through the floor as the insubstantial ones had. Rolling about on the floor, he seems fairly safe before kipping up to avoid a long sweep along the ground...a sweep that scratches the floor's finish. When his feet leave the floor, though, a tendril snatches him up by his ankle, holding him at length...and upside down. Abyss languidly glances over at Aria, but the mirth on his face is obvious. "Now...would you like to see what I'm about to do to you? And to everyone else here? It's only a tenth, a hundredth of what happens after I'm done here. If you only knew how meaningless your world was... You'd despair. You'd be crazy."

Those otherwise lost; faithless eyes stare at The Abyss. Holding his amused and taunting gaze as he speaks so cruelly. "If it's so meaningless…why do you chose it as a battleground?" Her voice slides in a close-to-monotone breath, barely even rising in question. Her moist eyes have fallen to the floor as she asks this, but then they move to Joseph, and back to the demon. "Please…don't hurt him. I don't know what he did to you…but…_please_…"

"We're all pawns! This is a cosmic game you can't possibly begin to understand! Do you think I'm here for revenge? No, I'll have that soon enough." By now, his voice has risen, and developed full emotion: spite, cold rage, malice. "I'm no exception. Why do you think I wear these chains? I _have a debt to repay_. You mortals can be so dense..." As he preaches to her about the proper place of the mortal world, he overlooks something, something she's never seen directly before: Joseph's form slowly gains a translucency before fading from the grasp of his chain like a mist.

Aria does notice the change, but she only keeps Joseph in her peripheral. If anything, she forces her eyes to the floor to blink, before she looks back up at the monster. She still had no clue what was going on, but she should keep arguing with him. "Do you think you'll be free once you've finished it?" Such vague words, though they seemed to fit what he was snarling at her.

Another dry, hateful laugh, and then he declares with venom in his cracking voice, "I wasn't free before it began. You should ask your 'friend' what he knows of..." Abyss looks back up at where Joseph should be, and then starts. A cloud begins to materialize just behind him...and then, in a flurry of purple light, a blade of energy pushes through his chest. No blood comes forth.

Leaning forward, Joseph whispers in his ear, "I send you back to your dark masters." Then, leaning back, he snaps upward with enough force to tear Abyss' upper body in half, chains and all. Even though his head is torn in two, there is still...absolutely no blood at all. Exhausted, Joseph staggers back and collapses, breathing heavily from his mouth.

Were it not for the fact that she wanted to hear what he had to say, the without-warning attack would have brought solace to her immediately. It still did, but she wanted to know his next words. So badly. Her eyes snap shut as the demon is thwarted of body, and she shivers to keep her stomach in check. Had she eaten before her performance, she would have vomited that very moment. Hearing something thud against the floor, along with breaths, she half-expects to open her eyes and see The Abyss still moving. Still…"alive". Instead, there is Joseph, and she lunges towards him.

Abyss' body, for its part, seems to be devoid of life; in a matter of moments, it dissolves into an inky blackness. Within a minute, there is no sign that it was ever there at all. Joseph, sitting on the floor, inspects the deep cuts along his ankle. Had Abyss constricted the chain, it would have cut his foot off...

While he inspects himself, the redhead collides against him. Clutching at his shirt, she folds herself against his chest and buries her face there. The much smaller form –in comparison to his- is trapped in a fit of shivers. One violent convulsion, a moment of still, and then another. Even if she had spoken to their attacker so calmly before, her breath is ragged now against his shirt.

"You did well," he remarks sadly. "We are not finished here yet, however." With a grunt, he pulls himself onto his feet...and her as well. "You should go and take care of your friend. I will see what I can do for those that are left here." Already, his mind was working on a viable cover story. He knew he'd have help in this regard, at least.

"Nhh?" As he moves, she seems reluctant to get back onto her feet. For all the fear in her, her legs feel numb. Her entire body is numb. The adrenaline was finally wearing away. She did well? Rather than mumbling a reply into his chest, her head turns to the side, but still stays in place. "All I did was throw junk at him…then talk him to death." Oh, what an unpleasant metaphor. Even she cringes at it. To his words, her eyes flash up to meet his. Taila would be ok?

Despite his injuries-which seemed to be healing themselves up at a startling rate-Joseph was quick to begin what could only be called a "coverup": first instructing Aria to call 911 and anonymously report, not an attack, but some form of mass hysteria. Only after positioning a few of the still-insensate victims near the destruction backstage did he bother to take up Abyss' body. Then, at last, he bolted for the back door just as ambulances pulled up. Taila was still out there somewhere, and he was leaving her to Aria's care. He would have to dispose of Abyss, and quickly.

All those drama shows of cops and evidence had served her well, so far as she knew. The payphone had been used rather than her mobile, and she had been smart enough not to touch the thing with her hands – using a prop glove instead. There was no reason for her to stick around further. If she did, she would undoubtedly be questioned. That was the last thing she needed, or wanted. Slipping off through another door, she hesitates and peers over the courtyard before bolting around a separate building, only to come strolling out casually on the other side. A black cloak is draped around her shoulders, another stage costume item. But she needed to hide that blood-covered dress. The cut on her hand had been deeper than she realized.

It does not take her long to gather up Taila and slip inside their dormitory. The inhabitants had all rushed outside to see what the ruckus was about. They didn't even notice the redhead dragging another girl in the doors behind them. Once upstairs, and inside their station, she hauls the still unconscious girl up onto the couch with a groan, before collapsing to the floor. Huffing a few breaths, she looks up towards the window. Would he simply disappear again?

His entrance, such as it is, is so subtle that might be easily missed, at least at first. The room slowly gains a haze over a period of about half a minute before just as slowly pulling itself into a corner and congealing into a familiar form, still clad in black. The tears in his bloody clothes were now over intact flesh, but Joseph still showed signs of having been in a fight: his eyes are dull, and had he any sign of visible breath, he probably would've been breathing heavily enough. Wordlessly, he composes himself and takes stock her situation.

The subject's comrade seems relatively unscathed. The roommate slumbers, twitching every so often but otherwise appearing fine. Aria is positioned still on the floor, her face resting on her folded arms, which rest on the side of the couch by her friend. Even after he falls into existence, she is still unmoving, until a few moments after. Eventually, her head raises and those eyes -also dull- regard him from over her shoulder. "Are you alright?" A soft voice asks.

"I have...'been better.'' Joseph does finally show a sign of breathing: a heavy sigh. With quiet concern, he glances up at Aria's friend, and then back to her. "Once the reporters have come and gone, this entire incident will soon be forgotten. In part because of your initial report, I'm quite certain it will be found that a foreign chemical was somehow present in the auditorium. Apparently, it will have caused some of the people there to become violent." With another heavy sigh, he gives way to crouching down in the corner. "That is how these things are handled."

She nods faintly to his words, but then her eyes move back up to his with what he says lastly. That was the tone of a Teacher, more or less. Would this be happening often? Turning away, she rests her chin on her arms. Wouldn't it make sense if this happened often? Then again, she didn't want to tempt fate with such a thought. "So…what was with that guy?" She murmurs, then speaks more clearly, "Why was he after you? And Chris-Christopher?"

"He was once an associate of Christopher." Joseph was not certain how much she put together for herself, so he decides to forge ahead and see how she takes the rest of the story. "That means he worked on my father's plans, up until his 'betrayal'. I do not know what happened to him after that, but he was _supposed_ to be dead."

Supposed to be dead. That was reassuring. "So, in other words…he could come back, again." Whether or not he answers, she turns silent for a time. Her gaze is planted on her friend, whose cheek she keeps touching lightly with her fingertips. "What else do I need to know? I mean, to function without having to question you every two seconds…" Or was she to be allotted that much? It would be easy for him to just vanish, never to return. That could leave her in safety, or perhaps quite the opposite. Did she know too much already? Probably.

Joseph watches her tend to her unconscious friend with an aloof air for a few moments before dryly commenting, "You have all the right instincts. Now, you need to know how to properly defend yourself." Again, there was that tone. Did that mean...?

The right instincts? What did he mean by that? After how she had conducted herself…so pitifully? What had she done right? Looking at him again, her eyes are filled with question, but there is still a veil of hopelessness. "What's going to happen now?"

"For tonight?" Joseph stalks over to the window as he speaks, folding his arms and looking out at the world below. "For tonight, you and your friend are going to rest." The curve in his shoulders slants downward as he sighs, and then adds, "I'll be here." A beat, and then he looks over one shoulder. "Unless that bothers you?" It might almost be a joke, except for the tired look in his eyes.

That fatigued visage was becoming the norm for him, even though she hadn't even known him for long. She couldn't help but to compare him to his half-brother. Pristine, beautiful, and charming…and then rugged, rough, and scarred. Weren't the bad guys supposed to be the unappealing ones? That had to be the irony of it though. Taking a few breaths, she suddenly yawns at the mention of sleep. Her eyes water up, this time not from tears, "Are you sure you can stay awake? Maybe we can take turns keeping watch, or something."

"I don't need much sleep," he replies in deadpan tones. Arms still crossed resolutely, he returns to his contemplations...whatever they might have been. His words were true: it was rare for him to sleep more than four hours in a night.

His tone makes her shrink, her eyes glancing around to random areas of the inhabited sofa before her. With a frown, Aria stands and a stern gaze has taken her as she walks into the kitchenette he is by. "Well, you could probably use something to eat at least." She glances at him while opening the refrigerator, pausing to see his reaction.

"Hm?" Joseph looks over his shoulder at her again; careful eyes might see him putting together her words into a sentence. Finally, he nods somberly and begins to move toward the kitchen. "Of course. Thank you for the offer..."

Her prepared frown smoothes out, and for a moment she regains something of a contented glow. "Well, I was supposed to go get groceries tomorrow. So the pickings are pretty slim." She pulls out a bag of shaved poultry of some sort, "Is turkey ok? I can make you some macaroni and cheese, too. Won't take but fifteen minutes for that." She could guess easily that he was the kind of man to not differentiate between foodstuffs. "If you like anything special on your sammich…" she points at the rows of condiments in the refrigerator.

"Hm." He leans over her shoulder to peer into the refrigerator as she offers. Whatever thoughts go through his head, he keeps to himself. All he says-in a very calm voice-is, "Just mustard, please. And lettuce, if you have any."

"There is lettuce, but I wouldn't trust it." Reaching over and without looking, she snatches up the mustard bottle and sits it on the counter. Like any good little chef, she washes her hands before touching anything openly. Soon a paper plate is scooted towards him with the sandwich left open, and the mustard left to the side. Some people were just picky about how much mustard… She would leave that to him while she started on the macaroni. It was good that it was a quiet meal to fix, but one could likely assume that after tonight's interactions, her friend would sleep through a train crash outside the door.

Aping her movements, he cleans his hands first. Then, Joseph picks up the bottle and peers at it with slightly narrowed eyes. For a flicker of a moment, he looks almost unfamiliar with it. Then, he shakes the bottle and squirts it over the bread: one continuous line, diagonally. When he looks up, one watchful eye, complete with raised eyebrow, seems to take close stock of her actions.

The water is already moving on to a boil, which is keeping her busy with opening the noodle box and sprinkling a little salt into the pot. But not long after he turns to watch, she pauses and slowly peers his way. "Uhm, you can go ahead if you want." Looking over her shoulder to the couch, her eyelashes flutter in thought then glance towards the door behind him before finding the stove again. "I guess we can sit in my room."

"Of course, of course." He spreads the yellow liquid as evenly as he can, then-with her apparent open permission-he finishes compiling the sandwich with turkey and cheese before closing it at the top. Once that is done, he steps back to watch her.

His observing seemingly unnerves her. For in every few seconds, she seems to shrink more and glance at him time and time again. Once the water is at a full boil, she pours in the noodles and gives them a stir, turning the heat down as well. "There's that, now just to let it do it's thing." Standing there in silence, she looks up at him while pointing to the door to the right and behind him. "In there."

Motioning for him to go first, she falters behind long enough to grab two cans of soda from the icebox before following him into her bedroom.

Not much has changed from the last time he had been there. Or at least, the last time he had been there and she'd known about it. The bedspread has been changed to a dark crimson-burgundy along with the curtains on the two windows. Otherwise, the aluminum baseball bat is missing. Where it had once resided now rest a pair of hook swords. Which appear entirely out of place.

Joseph takes his offered seat before explaining, in quiet tones, "I'm sorry. I wasn't raised to eat before a lady." In his own ominous way, at least, he was polite. He had seen the swords, but again...he says nothing. He trying as hard as he possibly can to keep the rest of her evening _normal_.

"No…It's not that." Fumbling for something to say, or at least how to word her thoughts, she gestures towards the chair before the vanity as she crawls up onto the edge of her bed. Curling her legs beneath her and smoothing out her dress, she grimaces at the stains on it. Taila was going to be upset about that. "Where Taila is usually so busy, I've just grown accustomed to cooking and doing a lot of things alone."

"So, it isn't _my_ presence, specifically?" His brown eyes do keep their tired haze, but it does not seem to be simple physical fatigue. Instead, a far deeper sensation is etched into his gaze. He is tired, it is obvious: tired of living. If his words could be believed, it might even be understandable.

Those multifaceted-green eyes widen slightly, and a blush rises to her face. "Well, you have a very unique presence…" her fingers tap at her knees, "If it weren't for the fact that you're some kind of paranormal-fiend hunter, Taila would probably be proud that I've finally brought a guy home! Eh heh…" Her head drops slightly to where her face is hidden. Smart choice of words.

"Maybe she should still be proud." Joseph casts a quiet eye toward the subject of their conversation. "Regardless, she'll probably never know I was here, if that gives you any comfort at all."

Aria looks up quickly, a flash of hope in her eye as she leans forward from the bed. "You mean, she'll forget what happened? I really don't want her to get dragged into this!"

"Well..." His hope was for a normal conversation. Leaning back, he sighs. "In all likelihood, she'll convince herself that what she's told is correct, and that there was some form of mass hallucination. Of course, part of that predicates your deception of her." As he summarizes, he watches her with slit eyes.

Her gaze downcasts, and becomes very deep. Eyebrows twitch at furrowing, but then smooth out, only to twitch again. Eventually, lids pass over her irises. "It will keep her safe, that way." Was she telling him this, or coaching herself? "I…need to go check the macaroni." Saying this softly, she slides off the high-rise bed and slips into the kitchen in silence.

Leading a double life wasn't easy. It got easier in some ways, and harder in others, as time passed. He wouldn't tell her any of that, though. Not yet. Instead, he steeples his fingers in front of his mouth and leans back. Though he barely knew him, it was a pose his father was wont to use when deep in thought.

Through the open doorway, he can easily see her moving about the little half-kitchen. For each few steps, she glances towards the hidden area where her roommate resides. The girl is surprisingly silent. Through draining the noodles, and stirring in the powdered cheese, she makes not but one disrupting sound. When she returns to her room, she is has a rally of items in her arms: A bowl in each hand, his sandwich plate atop one of those, a fork in each bowl, and a bottle of ketchup under her arm. Handing him his plate and bowl, she sits down on the bed again with her own after nudging the door closed with her foot.

She's given him a very large helping of the cheesy noodles, likely three-fourths of the batch. To her own, she adds the contents in the container of tomatoes/vinegar mixture, likely enough to create a separate layer should she spread it out.

Dark eyes watch her movements with silent sincerity before he turns his attention to the plate before him. The imagery she'd inadvertently conjured was unpleasant for him, but there was no way she could've known that. He picks at his sparse meal idly before lifting his own fork to his mouth. There were so many things he wanted to say, but she needed something normal in her life. Instead, he remains silent.

Awkwardly silent.

Even though the silence would be enough to drive the average person mad, it doesn't seem to bother the girl before him very much. As she had said before, she was used to doing things in solitude. Now that they both had something to do –eat- she keeps herself busy with just that. It was probably odd to watch someone eat ketchup on of all things: macaroni and cheese. But so many more odd things had occurred, what was the difference really?

Joseph eats quickly and efficiently. Everything he did seemed to have a certain conservation of movement. But still, he keeps an eye on her all the way through her meal as well. Was he paranoid? Was it that simple? Why? From his words, it sounded as though he had little to worry about himself. Then there was his skill and abilities. Could those come without practice?

In the time it takes him to finish his much larger portion hers is as well. Laying the bowl to rest, she opens up her can of soda and allows it to fizzle down before taking a deep drink. The silence between them wasn't necessarily welcome. There was a lot to talk about, many things to ask. But maybe he needed some quiet, too. She wouldn't break it without proper reason. After a moment, she frowns and a hand rises to her chest. Tilting her face down, she covers her mouth while trying to hide a belch.

Joseph raises an eyebrow at her odd actions before placing his empty plate to one side. "I apologize," he mumbles, as much to himself as to her. "I...seldom have to worry about keeping company. I am poor company, I'm certain." He does have that quiet well-spoken composure about himself that hearkens another era.

Even though she isn't feeling particularly warm, the corner of her mouth quirks ever so slightly, "You'd be surprised with how much Taila chides me with being quiet when we go out. So poor company has found a match, hm?" She chuckles wryly, reminding him of his own drink with a pointing finger to the table beside him.

"Hrm?" He looks down at the drink with a curious expression, and then raises it up. Easily, he pops the top. The accompanying hiss splits the silence that was accumulating in the room effectively. Then, he takes a drink himself before frowning thoughtfully. "I may never be accustomed to such sweet drinks." Then, before he can close his mouth, he burbs quietly. Placing a closed fist over his mouth, he scowls.

For some unknown reason, the sound and expression he gives off amuses her. Her shoulders hunch together, and she shrinks down with a grin and soft laugh. "We have Sunny D, if you like that?" Her own can is still held before her, the bottom resting in the palm of one hand while her other supports it at the side.

"No, no. It's...quite alright." He smiles gamely for her before sipping the beverage more cautiously. "Well, I suppose...I still remember harder times, before sugar was...inexpensive." Pensively, he looks down at the can. "In some ways, though, nothing has changed."

A smile? Was that a first? Either way, it was easy to see that they were clinging to this distraction from what should have been their diligent subject. But, for now, she doesn't mind. "Very true, I always buy the cheap stuff. But Taila likes her brand names. Tastes all the same to me."

"She should try hand-brewed tea sweetened with honey," he says flatly. His eyes remain locked on the top of the can right up until he drinks again, this time more deeply. "But hot drinks aren't as popular anymore..." Joseph's deep voice is almost wistful.

"Yeah…" Aria replies, guiltily. "I like iced tea, though!" Saying this in her own defense, her toes wriggle as she notices small blades of grass pinned to the pads of her feet. She was such a mess. Her hair had more or less dismissed the pins that had held it up, the dress she'd borrowed is ruined, and her feet are marred with dirt. So disheveled to be enjoying thoughts on beverages.

By contrast-off-color tears in his black clothing notwithstanding-Joseph looks as composed as ever. His unique flesh had already knitted whatever damage it had taken. As always, something about him seems...out-of-place. Or perhaps out-of-time. "You should consider resting soon." Placid eyes assess her quietly before he adds, "You might consider cleaning yourself first."

She only smiles, chuckling lightly while wriggling her toes more, "…Yeah…" Taking a stand, she gathers up her dishes and his before walking into the kitchen and rinsing them out before putting them in the sink. Glancing over at the couch again, she moves towards what is shown to be a linen closet. Pulling out a blanket and covering up her friend, Aria strolls back towards her room and stops. "So…are you…" a pause, "…just going to disappear again and then pop in fashionably late again, or?"

"I will be here when you return, and to watch over you through the night." Leaning back, Joseph folds his legs and sighs. His movements were those of an old man, to be sure, but his face was still young by comparison. Everything about him was subtle: the curve of the lines in his face when he frowns, for instance. "You have my word."

Green eyes stare at him for a while longer, that troubled veil having vanished. "Ok." Is all she says, and softly, before disappearing down the hall. But before she enters another room, there is the silence of another pause, before she comes scurrying back into the room and into her drawers. "Eh heh, I usually just come back in here when I'm done…Guess I should.." cutting herself off there, she hides her undergarments between the folds of a shirt and sweatpants before exiting hastily.

Joseph stands as she re-enters the room for just a moment. He moves over to the same window he'd once used to sneak into that room not so long ago. Folding his arms, he sighs and closes his eyes. There would be things his other senses could tell him, especially if danger was about.

He is left in solitude for around ten minutes. Eventually the door down the hallway opens, releasing warmth in the form of steam through the small apartment. Aria reenters the bedroom, her hair much more curly and hanging in dripping locks around her face. Ruffling it with a towel, she sits back down on the bed. "There's an extra towel in there…if you want…?"

"Hm?" Whatever his thoughts were, Joseph seems to have been dragged from them once more. Cocking his head, he watches her from the corner of one eye as he speaks. "No, that's quite alright, if it is the same to you." He means it, of course; there wouldn't be any sense in denying her offer if it was a source of pride for her.

The girl looks up at him for a moment, before the towel is draped over her head and face entirely. "Well, it's not too fair for me to be all squeaky clean and you not. You're the one who did all the work tonight." It bothered her that it was already becoming easy to talk about what had just happened. She peeks out from under the blue cloth. "A hot shower helps everything."

Joseph looks down at one of his hands, admiring it first from one side, and then from the other. Silently, he closes a fist. "I suppose." His wounds had already healed, ragged tears in his clothing notwithstanding. This was a recharging period for him.

"Second door down the hall, then." Aria replies, her face hidden again as she'd gone back to drying. As he leaves, she drops her towel and moves over to the window mantle to sit and stare out over the campus. Her eyes immediately fall to the bushes in which she'd hidden Taila. There were at least five police cars, as well as campus security, ambulances, and even a fire truck over by the Arts Center. The lights fought against the dark night sky so futily.

For Joseph, these were all common occurrences. In many ways, creatures like the one he'd fought preferred the cities. There, stories about drug use, mysterious disappearances, accidental poisonings, and bizarre murder were rapidly becoming commonplace. Not even newsworthy, really. There might be a few specials on the local news, and an ordinance passed by the college's board of directors, but in time, people would forget. That, of course, kept him out of government labs and other unsightly places. It was a delicate balance.

She could only hope that there wasn't some sort of investigation, but knew that there would be. It had been her recital, after all. And she had not been one of the persons that they are now loading into those ambulances. Hopefully, it would all wait until the morning. They likely had enough to deal with -to keep them busy- right now as it was.

In a few minutes, she can hear the sound of running water from down the hall. His shower would be a few degrees cooler than hers, in the end. For her, he realizes, it must be overwhelming. For him, it was relatively routine. That was the lifestyle he chose: stopping these things whenever he could. If he couldn't count on the authorities to know how to handle such matters in a moral fashion, then it fell to him.

Her hair had been pulled back into a very uncaring, low ponytail. It barely held it out of her face, but it kept most of the auburn tresses from covering her emerald eyes. Those twin blades in the corner have been taken up, and even though her bedroom is somewhat small, she is curling around the furniture with them. She was barely practiced, but obviously there had been some instruction at some point.

As she practices, she may or may not notice the sound of water ceasing. Similarly, she might not notice Joseph standing in the doorway, watching her movements with careful, reluctant eyes. He might have youthful features, but it remains almost impossible to forget that he is _old_.

No, she does not notice him. For the most part, her back is turned. But then again, her eyes seemed very fixed on something distant. Glazed, almost. It was easy to tell that she is thinking deeply, beyond what those blades are doing. They seemed very multi-functional; the swords. A little longer than arms-length, the ends curl backwards slightly, as though they could be used for climbing assistance. The hand-guards are another separate use feature than just protection, they are crescent blades. Something resembling a kunai knife juts out of the butt of the grip as well.

Using a weapon like that to cause damage would be fairly easy. The difficulty lay, he thinks, in not damaging yourself in the process. He had used a weapon with a similar principle in another life, but the fighting style her blades would require was fairly foreign to him.

For how inexperienced she seems, Aria does fairly well with them. Be it feminine, or perhaps even a further-practiced flexibility, the blades keep within a safe distance of her. Eventually, she makes an aggressive spin and swing, as if taking down some invisible foe. And in that, now facing the door, she jumps when seeing him, and immediately blushes. The swords are quickly returned to the corner, and she stands there doeishly.

"You're doing well." Joseph offers a somewhat stiff reassurance before crossing the room. His clothing is still slightly ragged, but he looks fresher. Somewhat fresher. "When you swing overhand..." He gestures with his empty hand to punctuate his words. "Draw the line in your mind from your shoulder downward. Flow from the body to the tip of the weapon, and project all the power there. Step in, if you have room, and imagine your body is like a whip."

Those eyes become slightly wide as Joseph begins to offer instruction. Her blush gains a deeper color, but then her hand reaches back down to take in one of the blades grips. Staring back at him, she crosses the bed on foot and slinks down to the other side – so that she may try. "Like that?"

Joseph nods. It was a good first try, and he could only offer basic instruction; he was primarily skilled with fencing blades, so far as that went, so even with his advice, she'd have to find her own way. "Of course...practice is the most vital part. Your body will need to remember the movements when you do not have time to think."

Nodding solemnly, those brilliant eyes glance back towards the window. "It's going to be hard to find time…I know they'll eventually come to ask me what happened." Looking down to the floor, "I'm not exactly sure what I can tell them that will fit."

"I would try to make the story sound in accord with what you know others will tell them." Joseph had never cared much for lying, but there were times when people didn't wish to know the actual truth. "I would start by telling them that you saw horrible things. Perhaps you panicked and returned to familiar surroundings. Give them the explanation you know they'll want to hear." The cover story he'd concocted, of course, was that there was some form of wide-scale contamination in the air. He knew "others" would fill in the blanks, creating an entirely feasible string of coincidences.

Again, she nods, then replaces the sword with the only and remains on her bed. Her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh, and then she looks up at him, scanning his features, "When do you ever rest?"

Perhaps she's hit a sore point: Joseph grunts in a deep tone and shifts his weight on his feet. "Whenever time affords the opportunity." What he does not add is that he prefers to sleep-such as he does-during the day, for whatever reasons.

Something denoting a quick apology takes her, and she looks back down towards the bed. "Well, I have class tomorrow. Do you think it will be safe to go?" While she hoped with all her might that Abyss monster was never to return, she felt something of a dark cloud trailing over them. Christopher had yet to show himself again. By the way Joseph had spoken of him, he made it very clear that his half-brother would be tenacious to his target: her.

"You should be fine." Joseph, by contrast, seems reassuring by his decidedly rock-solid presence. "I will be nearby. It seems this place may be more interesting than I had originally realized." There were still things to teach her, of course. Many things. In the end, she'd have to teach herself, but that time was-hopefully-far off.

"Well, just don't overdo it, okay?" This is by no means an attempt of control. That would be laughable. He looked tired, that was her point. While Christopher was still a threat to appear during the daytime, known by past experience, she knew it wouldn't be too hard to stay in crowded areas. He wouldn't dare try anything in those…She hoped.

"Hm?" It takes a moment for Joseph to process her expression of concern. His first thought was that it was a reassuring joke, but her eyes were quite sincere. Solemnly, he nods and again looks away. "Overdoing it" was virtually the only way he knew how to handle anything.

With his acceptance to that, Aria finally releases a yawn. "I guess its time to go to bed for me, then." Glancing over to her clock, she winces at the time it reads. Only around 6 hours until she would need to get up for her 7:00AM class. Sighing softly, she curls beneath her covers and then blushes again. Those eyelashes flutter in thought, and then she flips over to face the wall opposite of the windows. "Uhm, night."

"Sleep well." He does not actually remain in the room, of course, instead stepping back into the common area. Nor would he sit down, and risk disturbing the environment any more than was necessary. Instead, he focuses on his other senses, trying to keep watch over her without violating any sense of decorum.

7AM comes far too quickly. As he will hear as the alarm goes off, Aria is not too happy to be conscious. Something short of a groaning whimper sounds from under the purple comforter, before a small hand reaches out to press the button on the screaming alarm. The arm attached then falls limply for only a few seconds before the body beneath stiffens notably, and then she sits up, eyeing the last location she'd seen Joseph before going to sleep.

Silent as the night itself, he slinks back toward her doorway. He was not where she had last seen him, but she hears him tap at her door, and then, "Aria? You're awake, then?" His voice remains fairly distinctive: resolute, a bit flat, but melancholy.

Him not being in the chair, where he said he would be, brought an oppression of sorts to Aria's chest. What did that mean? A flurry of theories passes through her mind, just as he raps on the doorframe. Tensing with a start, her gaze snaps to him and she sighs. "Ah, yeah. Morning." Adjusting her twisted shirt, she slides out of the bed and eyes him awkwardly before looking in the mirror and ruffling her hair up into a ponytail.

As she prepares herself, he turns his back and begins to pull the door closed again. Respectfully, he folds his arms and stares into the far distance. "My apologies. It did not seem...proper...to remain in your room all through the night." He seemed to have an almost-departed sense of propriety.

"It's ok…I just got a little worried." Is the reply, though slightly dislocated in emotion. Within a few minutes, the door is prodded open. Fully clothed for the day, Aria is fumbling her books into a messenger bag. "Is…Taila still asleep?"

"Yes." Outside, he knew what the situation would be. There would be far too few questions for an event of this magnitude. There were those that had no interest in information about beings such as himself coming to light, which was both useful and hindering. "She seems to be recovering nicely." Though she might not see, he is glaring in her direction with a violet glow about his eyes.

"I think she had class today…I'll tell her Professor-" Aria turns, just in time to see the stare. Her head tilts to the side, "…Uhm. It's even possible that classes will be cancelled today…"

Joseph only shakes his head dismissively. "I would act as if nothing had happened. I believe you'll be surprised at how well this will work. I will be...nearby." Sneaking was more difficult during the day, but he had ways to stay within range of his senses while remaining out of eyesight.

Giving a nod, as just to reply somehow, she passes through the doorway. "Well, like I said, don't overdo it. Okay?" She wasn't going to try and order him around, and made her request like she had just the last night. Picking up a toaster treat from the counter, she moves to the couch and inspects her friend before glancing back up at Joseph. Her eyes immediately avert, and she leaves the dormitory to head out for the day.

Within a few moments, his form becomes less substantial. Moments still after that, he is gone as if he had never been there...

Classes had been cancelled. But her Professor had left an 'Until Further Notice' assignment taped to the door. The hallways were somewhat empty, but for those there, they were lively. "Did you hear?"… "I bet it was" … and all other sorts of yammer thunders in her ears as she passes them. If only they really knew. Aria would have gone right back to the dorm, but a few of her classmates find her as she begins to cross the lawn. Having been stopped, she disregards any beckoning thoughts to the last night's incident. Yes, it had been her début. No, she hadn't seen anything. She had left promptly after it was all over due to a stomachache, she'd been vomiting all night after – as her pallor suggested.

Conned into sticking around to work on their assignment, she leans against a tree and sighs. This all seemed so…small now. She didn't even hear her name being called until a body collided with her in a tight hug, a familiar one. It was Taila. She'd woken from her coma-esque state, and had wandered outside.

From time to time, she might catch a glimpse of a shadow, or feel somehow invaded as if someone was watching. At this exact moment, Joseph watches from atop a nearby building, where he crouches low and lurks in the shadow of a rooftop stairwell exit. She was doing well enough; he could tell even at this distance that she was not alarmed or fearful. She was almost too calm.

"Aria! Are you ok!" Taila cries softly, burying her face into Aria's shirt.

"Of course I am." Aria replies quickly. Gathering her up and moving her away from the group as the girl begins recalling the events, the demon-thing attacking her, she makes her replies very loud. "Are you crazy? That didn't happen. Something went wrong, like a virus or something. A lot of people got sick. I did, too. But I just threw up all night. We walked back to the dorm together, remember?"

Taila didn't, but being how the girl was so naïve she came to believe the story with a little goading. "You should go back to bed. You passed out on the couch as soon as we got back last night." Pulling the fruit-filled pastry from her pocket, she pushes it into her friend's hands. "Here, eat something and go take a nap. Okay?"

Watching her go, Aria shivers lightly and begins to rub her arms. Turning back to her classmates, she gathers her things with the excuse that she was too tired to work anymore. It was true, in a sense. Choosing to avoid the dorm now, she makes her way into the Library.

Joseph has an almost unnerving habit of finding his way into places unannounced and silently, so when she finds her way to a booth or private study room, it is no surprise that he sits nearby, poring over some musty book or other, from time to time turning a page. If he wasn't actually reading, he was certainly putting on a good show of pretending.

Aria hasn't even noticed, not at first at least. Falling into a chair was easy, since the library was devoid of any sign of being other than staff. On the study-end of the building, one could find complete silence. She came here often. Her forehead rests on the table before her, eyes closed, and arms slackened to her sides. Not until he's flipped a few pages does she crack an eye open and peer over to see him.

When she stirs, he lifts his head to make eye contact with her, then quietly returns to his reading. While he looks older than many of the students, he seems so at ease that it is difficult to imagine anyone questioning his presence.

She wonders why he doesn't say anything, that is until she looks the other direction to see a pair of the student-workers staring at her from across the room. They don't even bother to look away when she meets their wide, questioning gazes. Frowning, she turns herself around in the chair and pulls out a text book, laying it on the table.

She was disturbed. He did not even need to look up to tell that. Under the fluorescent light, it was harder to see the telltale glow in his eyes, and his continued insistence on studying makes it almost impossible. His presence is, as always, steady and unfazed.

Taking a glance over her shoulder, the workers are still yammering. Shaking her head with the softest of growls, she turns back around and tries to read…but cannot. Eventually, her angered expression fades into mild curiosity as she looks up to Joseph, almost studying him in a sense.

There is only the crisp sound of an old page turning, the continued gazing at the pages on the table before him. Idly, he clears his throat. What book would it be? What subject would interest him?

Now she was beginning to understand his ruggedness. Maybe he wasn't as old as he let on, or appeared. Was that a glow in his pupils? What was he doing with that? Watching him, as his fingers delve to turn the page, she finally looks down to see what his choice had been.

_The Origin of Species_. Darwin, an older printing. An odd choice for a man who seemed so steeped in principles most would call "magical", or at least mystical. He reads quite quickly, scanning each page in less than a minute before going onward to the next.

The title provokes a plague of eye-twitches. Clenching her eyes shut and rubbing them, she looks back down towards her book just as another student approaches her and begins asking questions about the last night. Like the story fed to Taila, the young man receives the same. He asks her of her well being before leaving, and then Aria glances back towards Joseph again. The boy had given him a few scrutinizing looks during their conversation.

If she had not been who she was, she wouldn't even think Joseph knew her, or knew of her. He seems so absorbed in his reading that he is oblivious to the outside world...except for that glint in his eyes, only visible in certain lights. Apparently finally satisfied that no one is nearby, he speaks without looking up. "There may be cameras, but there are no people nearby. How are you managing?"

Without thought, she begins to look up to the ceiling, but then stops herself. Jerking herself back to an eye level, she pauses a moment before delving back into her textbook. "I…don't know." In reply, gooseflesh returns to her skin. Again rubbing her arms in aggravation, she wriggles in her seat. "I'm just ready for today to be over…already."

"Well, you have the proper sort of instincts for keeping these secrets." Joseph turns a page and nonchalantly adds, "Not many would believe the truth, though." Could it be true? Could she have lived in a false world all this time?

With a single shake of her head, a solitary exhalation, something like a wry laugh, emits. "Yeah…I'm not sure if I even want to believe it." Taking a moment to let his words soak in, she glances at him without turning her head. Proper instincts?

"Few do. That is the nature of most truths." Apparently interested in something in his book, he leans forward and knits his brow. Was he actually reading? Was this the sort of thing he'd discuss as most people would discuss the weather with the morning paper?

"Hm." She wasn't sure how to take that. It was something of a compliment, wasn't it? Allowing some odd ten minutes to pass between them, she's slumped into her chair in a very crescent posture, her bottom barely even on the seat and her head tilted back over the rest.

"If you're that tired, perhaps you should get some sleep." His voice again comes quietly, but as an intrusion on the still-greater silence around them.

If she'd ever had a vocal conscience, this would be how it would feel. Her eyes are closed while her auburn ponytail lolls over the back of the chair. Shaking her head from side to side, she murmurs a 'No' of sorts. She wasn't tired physically, just mentally. Sleep wouldn't help that.

"As you wish." Idly, Joseph turns another page in his book. That sensation, that feeling of being watched, was more pronounced, and had been so, in his presence. It was a bit eerie at times, but it might be comforting as well.

With it being nearly noon now, Aria was starting to feel the ache of hunger in her stomach. Her hand reaches for her satchel, but then she remembers that she'd given her breakfast to Taila. Taking a moment to wonder why she'd gave food to someone who was going back to a dorm with the same things there, her abdomen protests loudly. Clenching a hand over her stomach, she sits up quickly and stares at her book. "…Are you hungry?"

Without even looking up, he answers her question in a flat tone. "I could eat." At first, the words sound too casual for him. Without moving his head, he directs his eyes to the camera overhead. "What did you have in mind? I can meet you there."

Her eyes close, and as they reopen they are in an unamused, half-light. _I could eat._ He could have been starving, and that's probably what he would say. For someone so frank with her, he seemed to hide himself just as well. Glancing around for eyes other than aperture, she mutters softly. "There's a bar on the other side of town, called Andre's. Not one of those college-kid places, and the food's better than the ones around here."

"I'll go first, then, since I'll be finding it via the phone book. Wait for a few minutes, then head that way." He hesitates long enough to skim the next page or two from his book before snapping it shut by the spine and placing it on the tabletop in front of him. As before, his footsteps make very little sound, and no sounds that aren't deliberate.

Her silence is confirmation enough. As he leaves, she does watch him though, her eyes scrutinizing his every movement. This was so weird; it was still hard to swallow. Turning back to her book, she closes her eyes and breathes a few times. Her heart was palpitating for some reason, her conscious didn't know why, but deep within she knew.

Andre's wasn't the best of bars, or the worst of bars. A not so nice in between, so to speak. When there wasn't a biker gang in town, or some sort of holiday used as an excuse to drink, there was nothing to worry about…unless you looked at someone wrong. The décor was wooden, some still polished, but mostly worn with use. Barely-lit booths litter the walls while there are two-seat tables within the midsection, and then the bar beyond. Taking a look different from the City stance, there are mounted animal heads here and there. Along with long since used guns, and other hunter paraphernalia.

Joseph crouched in the back booth on the left wall, facing the door. Clad in black, he almost blended in with the pooled shadows; a non-carbonated beverage slowly sweated on the table before him, protesting its disuse. Slumped there in that booth, his eyes focused on the far distance, he seemed somewhat relaxed. Somewhat.

A few more patrons enter, and eventually Aria does as well. She's changed from her innocent-apparel, now favoring slightly shredded jeans, and a half-length jacket. Obviously a motorcycle coat, due to the blue leather, stripes, and the word "Burn" sprayed onto the right arm, she looks more like the girlfriend to one of the hustlers in this place rather than a simple college student.

At first, she appears lost. Her eyes dart from the wrong side of the establishment, along the bar, until finally finding him. Recognition flashes, and she turns her path until meeting the booth, which she slides into across from him.

"I've looked over the menu," Joseph intones dryly, gesturing to the folded thick paper-stock on the table before him. "I..." A sharp exhale as he closes his eyes. "Well, what might you recommend?"

Her mouth creases thoughtfully, and before answering she picks up the menu and glances it over. "I've only been here once, and had cheese-fries. My friend Danny says that they have a steak-dog to die for." She chuckles at some absent memory.

"A...'steak-dog'?" Joseph raises a single eyebrow before picking up his menu again. "Sounds...savory." Was that tone distaste? Dry humor? Both?

"It looked alright, sans the chili sauce." Grimacing, she continues browsing, "Its just a hotdog with ketchup, onions, A1 sauce…oh! Here." Leaning up and slightly over the table, her finger angles his menu so that she can point it out to him. "That's it. Heart-burn city, if you ask me."

"Well, then. I believe that's the culinary experience for me, then." With a sigh, he drops the menu again. "Do you believe you were followed, by any chance?" He remains composed and well spoken. That would be the only thing that makes him seem out-of-place in the haggard surroundings.

With a little more confidence than should be expected, she points at him and answers. "Definitely not. At least, not by anyone I know…I mean, I didn't notice anyone. I took the long way and zigged a lot, and made as many street crossings as I could."

Good, good." Those sharp eyes seem to pierce her as he examines her presence. For just a moment, there is that glimmer in his eyes. "You have sharp instincts," he says dispassionately.

Lips purse, and her chin lowers slightly to the left while she maintains eye contact. "Its weird when you do that." Deadpanning this, she stiffens as a waiter approaches and pulls her menu back up to her nose.

"Yes." As if nothing had happened, he looks up to the server. "I'll have a...'steak-dog,' I believe, if the lady is ready to order?" His bearing, his tone...as a social chameleon, he does passably, remaining just within expected tone and behavior for that setting.

From behind the menu, a finger waves slightly. "I'll have…a burger with ketchup and pickles." Then the slightest of pauses is given, before she adds in, "And an Amaretto Sour." Of course, the waiter squints his eyes and requests an ID. But as the words pass his mouth, one humorously slides into view above the edge of the menu.

"Alcohol?" The query is simple, and only made after the server begins to move away. "Then, I suppose you did have quite the night last night." And he, apparently, did not. That was the implication.

Her eyes are closed as the menu falls away, a very serious expression across her light visage. Her tongue sticks out. "I'm legal. Need you see the card?" He doesn't need to answer, for she offers it regardless. "Besides, there's not much to a 'Sour anyway."

"I simply try to avoid dulling my own senses." Simply said, well said. Again. While his words might have been to chastise, he instead sounds as if he's offering advice. "Although... We'll see what this food does for that."

"I'm not some sort of drunkard, though." She adds, a few seconds after his reply. "The only other time I've drank was at my _birthday party_." That grimace returns, along with a distant stare.

"That must've been quite the experience for you." From his deliberate word choice, he apparently caught on to her hesitation. Perhaps he was merely looking into her soul again. With no accompanying feeling of invasion, though, that seemed unlikely.

"Well, I drank a bit, then had some jackass grabbing at me. Ya know, I bet that's the only reason why…" During her little rant she had been flinging a finger in the air, but now she suddenly stops while training her gaze in on him. That 'fire' extinguishes, and she composes herself, leaning back against the booth. "That's when I met…_him._" She watches his reaction, especially his eyes.

"He is a hunter, to be sure. But he is also a coward. That is one reason I'm still here: he can not strike me, no matter how badly he might wish to. So long as you're my charge, you're safe." Safe, at least, from one threat. But what of the others?

Her brows knit, "What do you mean…can't?" Folding her elbows into the table, she leans forward in interest.

"Quite right." Perhaps idly, perhaps solemnly, Joseph stirs his drink-apparently a tea-with his straw. "I have a connection, you see, with his esteemed leader." His eyes seem normal, but his gaze is heavy when he examines her face for understanding.

Perhaps there is understanding, or maybe non at all. But regardless, blatant information seems to be what she's after. "Ok…?" Waving a hand, to beckon more. "Elaborate."

"There is a man. If you do not yet know his name, you will. He has a plan, a plan of scope I could not possibly know. He has been carefully arranging his chessmen for decades, and I believe he will act soon. And me, me..." Sad brown eyes trail down the table. "This man loved a woman once."

Narrowed eyes relax, and the urge to comfort was so strong that Aria doesn't even realize what she's doing until her fingertips touch his hand. Quickly recoiling, her cheeks reddening to a slight degree, she speaks. "Go on…?"

"There is little more to add." Where she seems so emotional, he seems removed. "I was born with a small part of his curse, a small part of his blessing...and time enough to further both. I've outlived my mother by...some time. As for my father, well...he currently employs one 'Christopher St. James', alias 'Christopher Bishop.'"

That's what she had guessed at, but there was no reason to assume rather than know fully. Lowering her own gaze, she stills finally and doesn't seem so ready to act. After a long pause, "What's yours…?"

"My blessing? Or my curse?" One eye glimpsed up at her with his head still tilted low. "You've seen some of my gifts: manipulation of life in its most pure form. My curse is...straightforward enough."

Maybe she had assumed, "Oh, I meant like. You said something about chess pieces…and Chris – a…nothing." Their waiter returns with their orders, and as he sits down the alcoholic drink, she fidgets with the cherry stem sticking out over the side.

"My piece, you mean?" Joseph shakes his head. "I've met the queen, you know. She..." Another soft sigh. "I believe she fancies me. She said that 'the knight could not be harmed.'"

Looking back up at him, she releases her hold on the cherry stem. The way he said those words, it made _her _feel uncomfortable. Thinking quickly, she offers a small smile. "Knight sounds like you. You weren't wearing armor, but you busted into my room all shining-like."

"Yet, had I come to you before, you would have doubted the integrity of my words. I did not intercede sooner for two reasons. The first was that I knew you had to see what Christopher might be capable of for yourself before my words would carry weight."

Well, that was true. If she'd met him the night, or week after meeting Chris, she probably would have given him the brush off. That made things awfully uncomfortable, had he been watching them since _that night_? The burger on her plate looked way too big for her stature, but she reluctantly bites into it and stares at the condensation on his glass.

Much like the tea, his food remained largely ignored...until she looked across the table. "Hmm." Joseph takes his fork and idly disturbs the slab of meat and grease before him. After a moment or two, he begins to wrap his fingers around it.

Again, there is intent observation. Not until he actually takes a bite, does she finally pipe up. "So, what happens now?" Those odd-colored eyes are so stoic, yet there's a definite worry in them. Were they just going to wait for Christopher to attack again? Or send another minion? He'd told her a bit of the past, but not much on the immediate future.

"Well," Joseph replies after swallowing his first bite of food with such force it might well have been a metal weight, "That brings me to my second reason for watching you. I doubt you realize this-though I suspect Christopher somehow sensed it-but you have an abnormal reserve of..." It takes a moment before Joseph comes up with a description she might understand. "...Life-energy."

Her brows move again, but instead of knitting in a usual confusion, they sort of…flat line. "Huh?" Again, to the contrary, her voice is incredibly low, making the utterance more of a statement than question in terms of tone.

"I would say you have a large soul, but that's too likely to be interpreted metaphorically." After eyeing his meal for another moment, he finally replaces it on the plate in front of him. "Perhaps there's more to your family than you know. Perhaps you're simply a medium of one sort or another. Perhaps you're simply an oddity. That is why I chose to continue to watch you. I could speculate it was what might have initially drawn this 'Abyss' to your performance."

Her head tilts to the side, displaying something familiar finally. Whatever he was saying, it wasn't sinking in. Or perhaps she wasn't allowing it to. Thinking on it, she wanted him to be wrong. Coincidence seemed a much more…alluring reason for that horrid creature to have shown up to her début. "Uhm. Hm." She has nothing to say.

"Regardless, I want to more closely evaluate your potential. That, and..." With a quiet glare, he again examines his would-be meal. "And...I wish to be done with...this."

Evaluate? That made her assume that there were going to be tests of some sort involved, causing her to whimper softly. With his reflection on the food, she nods in agreement, "Yeah, I'm not too big on grease, either." They'd both only really taken a bite of their meals each.

The distaste lingered on Joseph's face right up until the moment he looked around the room. With the faintest of sighs, he lifted the combination of bread and meat and oil to his lips again. After swallowing, he added, "Well, then. If you're interested in continuing down this road, I can begin to train you more fully."

The words leaving him throw her into a slight daze. Did she want to do that? The options had to be weighed. Like he had said before; with her word, he would be gone, and all this left to be forgotten. But she knew she just couldn't forget this all! It had been surreal, fantastic, horrifying, but did she really want to just throw it on the backburner and go back to being a student/hopeful artist? It made things sound so…mundane. "What do you mean…train?" She asks, after taking a healthy sip of her drink.

"All I can say at this time is that it would not be pleasant. If my observations are correct, however, you have potential of which you've yet to dream." Another hard bite of soft bread and chewy meat. "And if my instincts are correct, you'll know what to do with the abilities you gain."

_Do I get a lightsaber like yours?_ No, she couldn't ask that. He was being serious. But she couldn't help but want to burst out into laughter, wry laughter. Aria couldn't even form a complete thought at that point, not a premonition for the future. But, if she could protect herself, that meant he wouldn't have to be so bothered with her, right? "Well, ok then."

"Hm?" There it was: that vague sense that he knew more than he was saying. "You're amused?" Joseph's lip curled in an involuntary snarl as he examining the food again. "I suppose I can't hold you responsible for that."

She blanches, "No, not like that…I mean, this is all just a little...woo!" Gritting her teeth, "I'm still on that 'I've gone mad' theory, or at least, I keep going back to it." Exhaling sharply through her nose, she fidgets with that cherry stem again. "Ya know, it's a bit crazy going from a normal college girl, to a potential prey item, to…whatever it is you say I may be."

"Even I don't know what you might become." He says this very flatly, his somber eyes glinting in the reflected light of an opening door across the room. "I see potential. How it develops-if it develops-is largely up to you. All I provide is the means, and hope that you will know how best to use it."

That was very ominous. He may have even meant it that way, who knew. He was a black sheet of paper. Pristine, white, and with an inch of plexiglass for protection. Mysterious didn't even begin to describe. Taking down the rest of her drink, she sits the glass back down with little to no sound and tries to focus on her hamburger, which only lasts a few more bites before she looks entirely through with it. "I think I'll just get the cheese-fries, next time."

"I believe I'm done, as well." He'd soldiered his way through most of his meal, leaving only a stub remaining. On the server's next pass, he gestured him over with one finger. Quietly, he asked for a pen; once the two of them were alone again, he tore a fresh napkin clean of its dispenser and scribbled an address on it. "When would you be free to meet me at this address?" It was across town, in a low-rent area.

As usual, she's observant. Watching his each move, how he speaks to the waiter, down to each stroke of the pen against paper cloth. "Oh, ok." Taking it, she stuffs the information into the breast pocket of her jacket and pulls out the necessary funds for the meal, plus a tip. Standing, she plucks the red stone fruit from her glass and plops it into her mouth before heading out the door.

The building wasn't much to look at, not from the outside. The dingy red bricks and barred windows didn't bode well for the interior, either. There was no light on the inside, leaving the late-afternoon sun to glare against the glass behind the bars; the windows might have well been made of stone, for all the view they afforded. Still, the front door was open.

It wasn't as though she hadn't ever been in a rough neighborhood, but she hadn't ever been in one _alone._ It made her gripe the knife in her pocket all the more tightly. The looks she'd been given at class had almost made that rough-costume she'd worn to the bar worthwhile. Taila had caught her in it, and had thrown at least thirty questions at her. She knew a third person had been in their little flat, and she demanded to know who. Aria had been able to dodge her questions due to the girl's cellphone ringing. She'd been able to disappear before Taila could look up from her texting.

At least this wasn't the part of town known for trafficking drugs. No, that was a few blocks over, or "over the rhine" as everyone called it. Pausing at the complex, she glances over the address, which is still concealed within her jacket collar, one more time before entering the premises.

The building's interior wasn't more colorful than its exterior. Stale sunlight streamed through the iron bars in neat slices, illuminated scattered dust and cobwebs. The air itself seemed almost sepulchral, stolid-smelling...an almost oppressive miasma. In the middle of the room, there was Joseph: standing in the center of a large exercise mat...glowing a faint violet in the dim light.

Although it was her better instincts to feel afraid, she doesn't oddly enough, and even that surprises her. For what little light is penetrating the room, her form in the doorway is casting a shadow barely darker than the surroundings. She didn't need to say it, she knew that _he knew_ she was there.

The shimmer fades from around him, and Joseph opens his eyes and turns to face her. His voice breaks the solace around them. It felt, again, like he was disturbing a sanctified place: a grave. "Ah. You made it. Good. Would you be so kind as to close the door and step inside?"

Her head tilts slightly, "Did you think that I wouldn't?" The question is frank, crossing the stale barrier of the room more smoothly than his own words had. She does as asked, closing the door and then nearing him. "So, yoga-time?"

"We'll most likely begin with stretches, yes. That, and a theoretical explanation." He turns to face her fully; much like the nights he'd appeared to save her, he wears only a tight black padded bodysuit. Behind him, scattered about the mat, are sundry exercise implements, most with martial implications: body bags of different sorts, free weights, and the like.

"Mm. Haven't done much like that in a bit, good time to pick it back up I suppose." Slipping off her running-shoes, her socked feet don't even make a sound as she simply _folds_ downward to the floor with ease, without having to reach down and balance with a hand, even. Keeping one foot in, she stretches out her other leg and leans towards it. "So, explanation? Theory?"

"At this point," Joseph begins as he watches her begin in the way she's most comfortable, "I doubt it will come as a surprise to you that there is such a thing as a soul." As he scrutinizes every detail of her movements, he continues. "Naturally enough, it is not solely the property of the hereafter. Aria." He uses her name to call her attention to him. "What are your current beliefs regarding the soul?"

She's switched to the other leg during his beginning of the 'lesson', and then worked her way to her upper body. For the most part, these are very simplistic stretches, just the basic things they would teach in a gym class. "Hm." Chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, she pauses to think. "Well, I was raised in a Christian setting, but I really don't know how I feel about an afterlife. I mean, God, Gods, or none at all…I don't think it matters, so long as we help our fellow man, and live peacefully."

It wasn't what he'd asked, but it was a foundation for her answer, or something like that. "I think we have souls, everyone. Maybe even animals. I mean, when an animal decides to help something outside their species rather than eat it, that has to say something. Same thing for people, I guess. There seems to be different _kinds _of souls to me. Almost like, they have colors that signify varying degrees of goodness, or bad."

Rolling backwards -it looks like she's about to make a full rotation and land in the same position she had been in before, but- she pauses at the shoulders and straightens, leaving her toes pointing at the ceiling and the rest of her body in the most vertical line one could muster. With her arms spread out and flat against the floor, she looks at him while her feet sway in the air. Was that the sort of answer he wanted?

"Hm." His face tightens as she speaks, but he does not show whether he gauges her answer to be correct or incorrect. Solemnly, he folds his arms and asks a second question. "Why do you not adhere to the teachings of your youth?" His eyes were beginning to glint again, a faint violet in the shadowy room.

"Isn't that part of living? – Questioning everything around you?" Of course she didn't intend on leaving him with a question, or pair of, as her answer. "It just makes no sense to me, the Bible that is. It's a book that's been handed down through the hands of _man_ for however long. What do we know about mankind? They aren't to be trusted."

"I understand." Another formal nod. "Very well, then. Stand." He clasps his hands behind his back and squares his shoulders to her, those glowing eyes still dancing over her form.

"Hm?" With such an impromptu command, it takes her a moment to respond. Loosening those tensed back muscles, her back arches downwards and her legs follow. When her feet touch the floor, she rocks forward just as neatly into a crouching position, and then stands. Her hands fidget momentarily, her middle fingertips touching her thumbs until she prompts herself to stand still and look at him directly.

With no other words, he leans in. By now, the sensation of casual invasion is familiar: his eyes, perhaps the strongest source of light in the room, seem to burn a bright purple hue. It would be impossible not to know he was examining her reaction.

Through the closing proximity, emerald eyes narrow in on his further, but they aren't entirely focused. She couldn't remember now, if she'd told him that she'd had some physical training. She'd told Chris, she knew that much. Which now, she wished that she hadn't. But would it mean anything in comparison to what Joseph would teach her? As he observes, he'll undoubtedly see that most of her muscle tension has been isolated to the left side of her body.

"Very well." Apparently content with his observations, Joseph closes his eyes for a moment. When they open again, the glow has faded. "Aria." The mention of her name, again to draw her attention. "What sort of exercise might you be comfortable doing?"

As her name is uttered, she twitches and blinks. "Huh? I thought…don't you have something in mind?" During that little standoffish exercise, she was wondering if he could look straight through her. If he could, he would see that her heart was racing.

"Weren't you trusting me to teach you?" It was a mild rebuke, but his tone was impossible to mistake. Joseph folds his arms and asks again, "What sort of exercise do you favor?"

Aria flinches, her gaze falling to the floor. With the repeat of his inquiry, her cheeks turn rosy, "I used to run a lot, and then a long time ago I…" the friction deepens, and her fingers start moving again, "I used to LARP with some of my old friends from High School. Anymore, I just play bad minton with Taila."

"Very well. Please, step up here." He moves to one side and gestures toward the middle of the exercise mat with his hand. "Take your position there, and when you are ready, we will begin."

"Eh?" The sound is short. Even without verbalizing, she could say a lot with those little chirps. Following his lead, she moves where pointed, but simply stares at him. "What are we going to do?"

"Turn around." He makes a spinning motion in the air with his finger, indicating that she should turn her back to him.

Her gaze widens, but without much more question than what is there, she reluctantly turns. Her head tilts downwards, ever so slightly, her eyes glancing from side to side. Even though she knew he wasn't trying, it was so hard to sense his presence at times.

"Now, then." She obviously wanted to look around at him, but she did not. "Run in place until I return. Count your steps in fours to yourself, and do your best to maintain a steady rhythm." That was all. There was no more sound, no more indicator that he was even there. In fact, were she to turn around...she wouldn't see him at all.

"Are you…?" _serious. _That was a dumb question. She does glance over her shoulder, and finds herself alone, or supposedly. Turning back, she haruffs a sigh and then tilts her head back towards the ceiling to inhale. "All I need is a Dr. Beat, and it'll be a nightmare from marching band." Sighing these words, she begins the exercise. At first it doesn't faze her to create a little noise, because she just didn't care. But after a minute or so, she decides to make something of it and see how quietly she can complete her task.

So it is that the minutes seem to build. In time, there is the burn of lactic acid in her legs and lungs. Still no sign of her "teacher." More time passes, and her feet gradually grow heavy with exertion. There is no indication of how much or how little time has passed in the dark room, only the vague sensation that she might possibly be watched from somewhere.

It had been too long since she'd exerted herself. The beginnings of a cramp in her right calf told her that. Forcing her mind away from it, she begins to lightly hum a song from the old 'band days'. The William-Tell Overture.

Midway through the first chorus, she hears his voice droning from behind her. "Stop." Joseph's tone is short, and it sounds as though he will not brook disobedience. "Turn."

Her last step comes out as a stomp, a heavy one, and she both gasps for sake of surprise, and for extra air as she spins around to him. "Geez, I was beginning to wonder…"

Before she even sees his face, she somehow knows his eyes will have that eerie glow. As she pivots, he raises a hand. When she finally faces him fully, he lightly strikes her cheek with his palm. As always, his face remains dispassionate.

Not but a moment after the swift connection ends, her own hand has dashed out to strike against the bend of that same elbow. "Hey, what was that for?" She hisses softly, her brows knitting, "You didn't say I couldn't keep myself entertained!"

"I apologize." The light in his eyes again fades, and he nods solemnly to her. "Do you believe my action was punitive?" His tone does not seem to be ashamed, or upset.

Grunting softly, she glares at him. "Well, I dunno. I guess I wasn't paying attention. But you didn't tell me I had to, really…" Her lips twist to the side again, where she chews lightly.

"Aria..." Now, his tone softens anew. He speaks much as he had before, when asking her what her beliefs regarding the soul might be. "If I asked you what sort of person you were, what would you tell me?"

"A confused one." She spits out quickly, still glowering about the smack. Looking astray, she frowns, "I like to think that I'm a good person. I don't like bringing harm to others…"

"And if I asked you to show me what sort of person you were, how might you go about doing that?" He speaks in riddles with an even tone, apparently hoping to lead her to a conclusion.

After some thought, she puts her hands on her hips and straightens. "Why don't you tell me? You're the life-force…jedi…bender-thing. You're always staring me down, or whatever it is you're doing. Can't you see what sort of person I am? Do I have a color like you?"

"You haven't seen what sort of person you are?" As he continues, he steps beside her and looks out one of the room's dingy windows. "Out there, as you go about your studies and your meals, you might think you are one thing. You might be one thing. Against Abyss, I saw one thing. Against Christopher, I saw another. The two were not wholly different."

"I'm a stubborn, relentless and always questioning person. But that doesn't really attribute to my _big picture_." Aria comments as he gazes, then follows with, "Not wholly different, but different?"

"Against Christopher, I saw you as a frightened prey creature. Against Abyss, you were an active participant. I could see the difference, obviously. I had to be sure you could see it, as well." He continues to lecture her without looking directly at her.

"I guess so." But, Chris had been a different sort of predator than Abyss. Chris had…he had charmed her outright. Abyss, well, whatever that thing was, it assaulted her straightforward. Of course there would be different reactions.

"I believe the difference would've been time." At last, he looks down at her again. "You were even prepared to strike me. Remarkably quickly, I might add. Yet before you did, you wanted to know more."

Grinning slightly, she stretches her arms over her head. "Eh heh, like I said. Stubborn, and questioning." Leaving it at that, she ponders more on the words beforehand, about time. She had adapted, slightly, hadn't she? But she sort of had to…given the awkward circumstances.

"Now, then. It is a fine start, and it confirms many of my suspicions about your character." A fine start. That phrase had ominous implications. "Fatigue does nothing to dim your enthusiasm. I expected as much. Unfortunately..."

Was he going to answer her, about what her character was? She had asked, hadn't she? With the leading words, her arms fall. "Unfortunately, what?"

"That means I'll need to truly challenge you if we are to find your limit." Something seemed to be troubling her. Whatever it might be, it didn't seem to trouble him in the least. "Catch your breath, and I'll have another surprise for you...hopefully, a more pleasant one."

Of all the mysteries in her time, he was the trickiest. And that was no compliment, for it truly frustrated her. For once she crosses her own arms. Quietly and steadily, she regains her composure after giving her breath time, and shaking out that calf muscle. "So, what now Sensei?"

"Here." With no further words, he walks over to a heavy bag, hung from a stand on the floor. At the base of the stand, there is a worn black sports bag; from this, he removes a rather foreign-looking object. When he spins it in his hands, she can see it for what it is: a meshed facemask. A fencer's helmet.

The object before her invokes a very specific memory. When she and Chris were riding to that restaurant together, he'd mentioned a love for fencing. Aria looks up at Joseph, staring at him blankly before taking the mask with a measure of hesitance.

"It's a hobby of my father. The 'queen' told me that he earned Christopher's respect by beating him at the sport." From the bag, he removes another mask, a pair of breastplates, and two long, light swords. "I've taken it up for other reasons."

"That would make sense…" She mumbles, mostly to herself. Taking up the allotted items, she does her best to tie herself in comfortably. With the sword, she first holds it like a shinai, but that of course wasn't the proper way. Letting it fall into her right hand alone, she grimaces beneath the mask.

"You'll have to hold it more loosely than that." He takes her hand and adjusts her grip upward, moving it closer to the hilt. "Now, relax just a bit." The metal is surprisingly heavy, especially when held away from her body. "This can teach you to think calmly even when you're tired." Even through her mask, she can see the sincere intensity in his eyes when he adds, "You must realize that no small part of this training is physical exhaustion."

After the adjustment, she gives the thin blade a wisp through the air. It was definitely heavy, a great leap from the padded pvc pipes she was used to playing with in role play. Still listening, she exhales differently, the air escaping her lungs colliding with the back of her throat, almost sounding like a low growl as it pours out of her nose. "I can handle it."

"Good." She might even see, for the faintest moment, a smile on Joseph's face. "You may take your place on the mat. I will be there shortly." With that, he begins to fit his own helmet.

She does see it, but forces it out of her thoughts before letting it sink in. Focus was needed, that had to be what he was trying to teach her before. He had said that she had strong senses, so she needed to hone those. He had been impressed with her response to his strike, even though it was light, right? That had to be it, then. Moving towards the mat, she rolls her feet a few times while trying to fall into what stance she guessed would be best. With her right hand being the dominant, and holding the sword; she favors that side, keeping her left at an angle backwards.

"Ready?" Taking a stance just opposite her, Joseph whips his blade through the air. The slicing sound it makes might even be intimidating. When he takes his stance, he holds it for long enough to allow her to duplicate it: his right arm forward, holding the weapon. His left arm is cocked away for balance, and his weight is centered on the balls of his feet.

She was close! Making the minor necessary adjustments, she lowers herself to a comfortable level and nods at him. "I'm ready." The confirmation is so strong, and yet she wasn't at all on the inside. She was just telling herself that.

"The weapon you're holding is a foil. The tips are blunt. Only stabbing motions should be counted." He rattles the rules at her almost without thought. "The only valid target is the torso, which is all that your armor covers. There is more, of course, but I suspect that can wait."

"En garde." The foreign phrase has always sounded like it should end with an exclamation point; Joseph sounds almost bored. He begins in much the same way, rocking back and watching her movements carefully without making a direct motion to attack. The most theatrical thing he does is tap the tip of her blade with his own.

"That's not very realistic." Aria mutters. In her LARPing experience, anything was open to attack. This was a 'fine art' though, so of course it would be confined to a clean kill. As he blandly exclaims the beginning of the round, or whatever they'd call it, she only follows his movements without doing much herself. Her weight does shift, but only in opposite to whatever he is doing. As his blade taps hers, the 'rush' takes her. She attempts to shove forward, keeping her foil in contact with his as closely as she can before taking a jab at his breastplate.

"Hm." He doesn't seem at all alarmed by her sudden movement. Instead, he twists his wrist. That is all it takes: physics pushes her weapon aside and downward. Instead of rushing in, though, he takes a step back. If she wished to take the offensive again, she'd have to step forward.

Beneath that mask, her eyes squint. It would take a bit before she was used to this method, but she was picking up some things. Barely, but something at least. With the distance between them now, it would make sense for her to step forward, but she doesn't. Instead she stays where she is, her toes wiggling on the insides of her socks.

"Hm." Joseph flits in, bouncing on his feet inward a single time, then just as rapidly jumping back. Again, he taps the tip of her weapon with his own. His attempts to goad her to attack are painfully obvious.

She could see that. But then again, this man was never what he seemed. She had to remember that. Or maybe, he wanted her to think that? Oh, she was running herself in circles, now! Roll stepping forward; she mimics his taunting actions, the clinking becoming a familiar sound in the room now.

"Good, good." He praises her aggressive caution. So it is that the clatter fills the empty hall, periodically broken by Joseph's advice for her. He doesn't seem so interested in teaching her about the art of fencing; instead, he gives her advice on how to keep her head about her when she feels pressured or tired. Then, he drills her on her footwork; though he doesn't take direct part in this, he insists she wear her full garb as she shuffles to and fro as rapidly as she can for as long as she can. By the end of the day, the art is obviously less important to him than her physical and mental fitness.

By the end of the session, she's earned the right to collapse, but she only allows herself to slump against the wall. Her mouth was so dry, her tongue sticking to the sides of her mouth in the most annoying of ways. "Phew…" Unbinding the mask, she lets it roll off into her hand and she gives her hair a good shake. She'd have to pull it back, next time.

Joseph doesn't even seem to be out of breath. That might have been a function of his unique bloodline, but it might have been his training. "Aria." He'd said her name many times. Often, it was to get her attention. Sometimes, it was to put her on the defensive. This time, it was to offer her a bottle of water.

Due to that implication, she straightens immediately, then blushes abashedly at the offer. "Oh…heh." Taking the bottle, she opens it and presses it to her lips. Only a few gulps are taken before she seems sated, which is actually not that much of an amount for someone who had been exerting themselves for the past few hours. Sighing contentedly, she looks back up at him with a small grin. "Well, that was fun."

"I'm actually glad you feel that way." His face remains unchanged, despite his warm words. "But our purpose wasn't to entertain ourselves." Kneeling down before her, he continues with a simple question. "What did you learn, Aria?"

Pausing to think, her head tilts. "That, there's more to the detail of what one is doing, rather than just the act itself?" Had she worded that well enough to make sense? Thinking over it, it made sense to her, at least.

Joseph nods appreciatively. "And I believe I owe you an answer to at least one question. The answer is yes." With characteristic opacity, he doesn't explain exactly which question he is answering.

"Rock on…" Although there's little energy to make it loud, and excited, the tone is enough to add to relative happiness. But that soon dissipates, "Wait. Do you mean color or…?"

"Yes, I can see something of what sort of person you are. But there is one thing I want you to learn today, Aria, even if you learn nothing else." With quiet, ominous tones, he leans forward to continue, "Your soul is mutable. It is ever-changing in quality and quantity. I will not tell you what I see in you, for good or ill, because that is yours and yours alone to discover and influence. You need not taint your soul with expectations that you 'should' be a particular way because I told you that you should be."

As usual, her body wishes to withdraw, but she forces herself to remain in place. It was becoming easier to do that, oddly enough. She barely even had to will herself not to sway now. Swallowing, she averts her eyes from his piercing gaze for only a moment before returning to it. "Well, fine, hold out on me then." Her tongue sticks out, and she snorts lightly at him.

Finally, spring break. Balancing class, Joseph's training, and making everything seem as though nothing had changed at all had been quite an accomplishment. Taila was under the suspicion that she was up to something, but hadn't had the chance to pin Aria down yet to make her answer for the constant absences from their flat. And that, Aria was grateful for.

Aria wasn't sure if she was making as much progress as Joseph had wanted her to. He always maintained that gruff, uncompromised air about him. At least she could tell that there was a change! But, that was only in her endurance, and clothes. Her fitted tees were beginning to loosen, not like she wasn't trim already, but her lack of exercise had added a little more 'softness' to her physique. She liked it, though.

But a lot of those thoughts of progress were but a speck in the back of her mind, now. Her bedroom was filled with static, and it made her wonder if the air above her was wavering. Swallowing and suppressing a sigh, she glances over at the resting form beside her. There were dark veils of restlessness beneath Taila's eyes, and her left cheek was still puffed, even beneath the bag of ice. Aria forces herself to look away quickly, lowering her hair so that her auburn hair would blind her from the sight.

Joseph's training was unlike any other. On one day, it was fencing. Another day, it would be savate. Judo. A hybrid style he called "pankration." Russian sambo. The martial styles he had at least a basic knowledge of betrayed his origins: no mortal could have learned that much in one life. The sundry styles used were not nearly as odd, however, as the training's accompaniment.

While running Aria through her paces, he would ask her questions. Sometimes, it would be questions about battle strategy and tactics. Sometimes, it would be questions of ethics and morality. Sometimes, it would be her reaction to poetry or prose he recited. Regardless of her reactions, he wanted her responses to be well-reasoned...and forcefully said. She needn't be loud, but she did need to project and articulate at all times.

That day, however, he hadn't scheduled her for training. Rest, he told her, was important as well. While she lay there, examining her friend, she might be surprised to hear a soft knock at her door. She might even sense a familiar presence beyond.

It was odd for him to knock. Most of the time he just appeared. Maybe he knew… No, he had to. "Come on." A whispery voice beckons, and as he opens the door she's looking down at her slumbering friend again, who barely stirs. The dense air has barely lifted, but there is a change to it. By her side, lying neatly atop a pillow, Aria's right hand is blanketed by a bag of ice. Beyond the translucent cubes there is bruising and a few splits around her knuckles.

Looking up at him, there is still a glare dancing in her eyes. Not directed at him, but something distant, and long since past. Down the right side of her face, and her unsleeved shoulder, there are distinct darkened areas of collusion.

It takes only a moment for those piercing eyes to assess Talia's condition. Apparently acknowledging her insensate state, he speaks freely in his straightforward fashion. "What happened?" There was a certain life to the air around him, and it seemed to make him more cautious than usual.

Carefully watching Taila for consciousness, Aria relays the entire story to him. She had gone on a jog, contrary to his command for her to take a day off. She made certain to tell him that it was only a short run around the city to do errands. When she'd returned, she had found Taila's boyfriend outside their door, pounding on it and screaming. The couple had fought, and obviously he'd struck Taila. When he demanded Aria's key so that he could get inside, she denied him, and then he had turned on her. They scuffled, he'd punched her in the stomach and thrown her against the wall. But in the end, somehow –which seemed a surprise to her- she threw a punch that had KO'd him, as she termed it.

As he listens to the story, Joseph nods once or twice. She might be surprised to see his shoulders and face actually relax as she continues with the narrative. When she finishes with her colorful description, he passes judgment. "It sounds as though your actions were reasonable. Do you require medical aid?"

To his acknowledgement of just cause for her reactions, her eyes slowly close and she visibly calms down. Had she been worried about that? At the question, she touches the side of her face, gingerly at first, but the pressure intensifies. That didn't bother her very much; it was the hand she was more worried about. "I think I may have cracked something…"

Joseph crosses the room in two quick strides. He does not speak at first, kneeling beside Aria and examining her hand, and then her face. "Do you believe you can heal this?" From anyone else, it would've been a question about gradual unassisted recovery.

She tries to hold back her flinches as he lifts the ice away and moves her fingers one-by-one. It hurt enough that she simply clenches her eyes and rests her chin against her collarbone, a hiss seething through gritted teeth. "Neh?" The sound is still laced with pain, and her moistened eyes crack open at him.

"Do you believe you can heal your injuries?" He seems perfectly serious in asking her this. "It may be a perfect trial for you, succeed or fail. There would be no witnesses, except your assailant. You may not wish to attempt this, however, if you wish to seek police action against him."

Her head tilts, "What do you mean, witnesses…?" She was confused. And no, she wasn't going to get the police involved, she'd already decided on that. The last thing she needed was the Fuzz poking around, keeping an eye on her. That was all Taila's decision. Which, she was at a standstill on that thought. "Should I be able to?" He hadn't really described to her much linking to this. But if he were mentioning it, he must have thought that she could. "How do I…?"

"Let me ask you this, first. Do you feel how you have grown over these weeks?" As he speaks, he adopts the tone she's more accustomed to hearing from him: aloof, poised, and analytical. "Do you feel that you've grown at all, for that matter?"

"Well, yeah." Her volume has risen, which she stifles just as quickly while glancing over her shoulder. "I mean, I feel…better, like I used to. I guess I forgot how it felt to be healthier. Too many cafeteria meals, I guess." She chuckles, but then tries to be more serious, "I do feel different, too. But I guess that's just because…I dunno…_knowing _things."

"Knowing things?" There was often the feeling, with those vague questions, that Joseph was weighing her answers carefully. Whatever he decided based on her responses; his expression usually did not change. "What sorts of things?"

"Well, about things beyond the mortal circumstance." Aria hated it when he did this; he liked to dig for what she was thinking. At times she would simply spew her mind to him, other times…she just wasn't in much of a mood.

"I see." Straightening himself, he stands to his full height. He always looks like a shadow, even on the brightest of days. In the gloom, he might well disappear entirely at a whim. "Healing oneself is mechanically simple, but requires great expedentiture of energy. All that is necessary is gathering your strength, and then sending it to the affected area. Regretfully, I have not yet taught you now to manipulate your aura within your own body, so this task might prove difficult."

"Hm." He might think it hilarious, if he knew what she was really thinking. Or insightful, she wasn't sure. Taila had always yelled at her about this, but Aria had a way of sneaking around without being noticed. Had it been an extension of this "strength" that Joseph had seen in her? She had looked it up on the internet, aura's, and the ability to contain them. Humorously enough, it had landed her in a 'Vampires are real' forum, where a bunch of gothic kids made their arguments as to how they were true nosferatu.

In her research of the page, she found that some of them believed in the power of aura concealment, which granted such stealth that 'mortals' couldn't detect them. Yeah, she'd practiced that, but didn't stick with it beyond a week. Even afterwards, she found herself startling people without intention.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she looks up at Joseph before focusing on the wall and closing her eyes. Her chin tucks again, and she attempts to draw in her 'aura'. To pull it in around her heart, and imagine it hovering there.

For his part, Joseph steps away, folding his arms and watching intently. After a moment, his eyes begin to glow. She can feel him examining her presence, looking for fluctuations in her very soul. Even seeing how her manipulations had progressed could be instructive.

Even with a vivid imagination, she couldn't visualize what she was doing. More of a sensation than image, Aria was trying her hardest. Her eyebrows knit slightly, lips parting just barely to expose clenched teeth. _From the heart, to the shoulder, from the shoulder, to the elbow, then to the hand._ She thinks to herself, wondering if anything were really happening, or if she were just wasting their time.

Joseph's eyebrows raise, and he gives a barely audible grunt of interest. Even with her eyes closed, she can feel the weight of his attention shifting as she chants her mantra to herself. Apparently, something was happening...

With the sound, her concentration is broken. Emerald eyes open to first look at him, and see his pointed gaze at her hand. Following that, she hums in surprise. Something had happened! The bruising around each knuckle was steaming, and had nearly disappeared, melding back into that soft, washed peach hue. The splits in her skin remained, but they were looking less irritated. Leaving the hand on the pillow, like it were a stationary object, she scoots closer to it and pokes at each joint before giving her fingers the smallest of twiddles. "Oh!"

"An impressive first effort. That's quite enough for now, however." The light in his eyes slowly vanishes, and he looks to Taila without changing his posture. "Now, for your friend. If I heal her, there will most likely be questions. I believe that would be best left for conventional medicine."

Aria frowns, again following him to view her friend. That would be best, even though she hated it. Another wash of anger becomes her, her jaw setting as though it would contain it.

"You should relax." His rebuke is gentle, but still pointed. "You've exerted yourself enough today, in more ways than one. If the man returns here, you'll need your strength. If I intervene directly, the outcome will be...messy."

For a moment, she wanes, but then that familiar stubborn air sets in. Her bare feet curl inwards, and she crosses her arms. "If that bastard comes back, I'll mess him up." She growls softly, glowering.

"Would you like a foil?" He speaks, of course, of her training weapon: the light and dull metal blade. It wouldn't pierce the skin, and it most likely lacked the weight to even render someone unconscious...but she knew from experience that it could bruise unprotected skin.

"No…" She replies, her tone coming down. "I'd break it over his head." He probably meant the offer so that she could practice while he was away. But her train of thought was elsewhere. Sighing, and smiling wryly at him, "Spring break starts next week. No class."

"It sounds as though you have plans?" He hadn't discussed what she did on her own time with her in the past; there seemed to be the unspoken understanding that she would do nothing to jeopardize the secrets they shared.

"Well…" It had completely slipped her mind until today, when she had looked at her calendar before going on her jog. "Taila and I had planned on going to the beach. You know…the usual Spring Break thing."

"Spring break...?" He repeated the phrase as though it were something distant. From what he'd taught her, it was obvious he'd traveled the world over. That begged the question...if he was so well-traveled, where would he go on vacation? Where could he go that would be a "break"? "Well, then. Don't neglect your training, and trust your instincts if you find you're suspicious of others." With that, apparently, she had his permission.

Watching his reaction, she is slightly surprised. But then, her eyes squint at him slightly. She didn't expect that he'd let her go alone. Knowing him, he would shadow her. He probably didn't want her to know that, but she was guessing it already. If he wanted to play coy, she'd let him. "Well, cool then. Guess that gives you some time off, too." Smiling, she suddenly yawns, her eyelashes fluttering. "Well, was there a reason you came?"

"I happened nearby." It was a vague answer, but one that perhaps confirmed her suspicion. "I sensed something was amiss. I suspected I would need to put in an appearance." Turning fully toward the door, he continues. "You should sleep, you know."

A disturbance in the force… "Yeah, I guess so." Maybe it was a jog, or the might, maybe it was…whatever she had done, or all. But she felt like she had been hard at the haul for a full day, and it was only the afternoon. Swallowing back a yawn, she nods. "Yeah, I think I'll take a nap." Moisture was gathering in her eyes, which she wipes away lazily while leaning back, keeping herself turned towards her sleeping friend. "We'll be leaving tomorrow…"

"I understand." He speaks in his shadowy tones, turning to face her window. "You probably exerted yourself in the healing. You should rest. I'll remain nearby and alert you if anything should change."

"Nah, don't worry about it. I don't think anything's going to happen today. All the drama has already dropped a bomb." She waves at him haphazardly, her eyes still closed. Soon, her breathing evens out into a steady rhythm.

_Meet me at The Tradewinds Café next Thursday at 4:30 in the afternoon._

_I wish to parlay._

That was all, handwritten in beautiful calligraphy on thick cardstock and placed in an unsealed white envelope. That was all, but that was enough. Even had he not known the handwriting, it would have been the ink of the deepest blue, the use of the world "parlay", the insistence on old-world customs long-forgotten, or the simple seal of a recessed circle in navy-colored wax. Any one of those things might've been enough. Taken together, they were unmistakable. It was an invitation he could not truly refuse.

Indeed, he may not have had a choice in the matter at all.

The next Thursday possessed a grim and gray afternoon, the sky blanketed in thick clouds that never quite delivered the rain they promised. Inside the café, it was no brighter. The clinetele apparently preferred a warm, if dim, light provided by a host of mismatched incandescent lamps and candles. The booths themselves were closed by beaded brown curtains, and the air had the heady smell of roasted coffee and sundry flavorings. That was the scene that greeted him.

He might have spent a few minutes searching around, probing tables and booths near and far, had he not _known_ where she was the moment he walked in. Unerringly, his soft footfalls carried him past the chatter of two socialites, the clatter of fingers on laptop keys, the distant rumble of a music streaming through someone's earbuds directly into their skull. It wasn't the sounds he followed; it was a feeling. A sensation. In the back, in the darkest corner, there was a place where creativity gave way to order. The ideation there was not chaotic or flowing; it was perfectly themed and rhythmed.

It was where he'd find the queen herself.

She was waiting for him. She had to know that he knew that. They'd been aware of one another for some time. He gave no introduction, instead shifting silently past the booth's curtain and settling soundlessly into his seat. Leaning forward, he made no effort to hide the fact that he was scrutinizing her, his brown eyes teasing her soul. She didn't bother to look up from her coffee at first, a steaming black liquid that carried the sweet heavy hint of chocolate and the biting twinge of cinnamon. When she did look up at him from over the mug, her expression was perfectly smooth.

She had cat's eyes in mahogony, skin the shade of lightly baked porcelein, and perfectly straight hair that glistened like obsidian rivers spilling over her midnight-blue dress suit. As she lowered her coffee cup to the table, her lips slowly curled into a practiced coy smile. Everything about her was just like that: polished. Silky. Perfected. Too perfect, too practiced, too smooth. Almost soulless.

Almost.

"You came." She feigned surprise as she spoke, her lips parting in an open and warm grin. Her voice carried the soft peal of unspoken laughter.

His tone, a stark contrast to hers, was tense, dark, and quiet. "It isn't as if I could refuse. Why have you asked me here?"

Her expression immediately changed. The mirth dripped out of her expression. Her face became an icy mask. That was closer to her true self: distant, analytical. The slightest traces of melancholy clung to the corners of her almond-shaped eyes. The sigh she heaved, too, seemed genuine. "You never have time for pleasantries," she wistfully intoned. "Is life really so hard to live?"

There it was. He suspected she could bend most men to her will quite quickly. Perhaps to her, he was the unconquerable, the distant mountain that challenged her. Perhaps she felt he was something hurt or imperfect she could mend. Perhaps it was simply his resemblance to his father, with his own fair skin, black hair, and piercing brown eyes. The reason did not matter, ultimately: she was enamored with him, and that only made her more dangerous. "You asked me here," he returned evenly. "I can only assume you have a purporse in so doing. I doubt you're here to chat idly."

A second sigh, this one more resigned than the first. "Of course." She lowered her voice as she leaned in. "Your father sends his regards." He only snorted softly in reply to that. "He understands that his new black knight has resurfaced."

There was no point in confirming or denying exactly what she said. He did neither. "How might he have come into this knowledge?"

"Mikhail..." Her pronunciation of the name's nuances was impeccable, but her tone was patronizing.

"Joseph." Again a counterpoint to her playful prodding, he remained resolute in word and thought.

"Joseph, is it?" Those aloof eyes became somehow still more haughty as she inspected him, lifting a hand to her lips. After a moment, she pronounced her sentence. "The name suits you well..._Joseph_. Now, then, do I really need to answer your question? Among all of us, you have more in common with your father than any. Did you think a disturbance so great as the return of Simon Seranno would be beneath his notice?"

"He has a new name now, as well." She was right. Attempting to hide what had happened would be pointless.

"Oh?" She might have well been a twentysomething businesswoman gossiping about a coworker, with her inclined posture and shoulders squared to him. "Do tell."

"He calls himself 'Abyss' now, and where he goes...terror follows. I'm sure he has vengance in his heart." Joseph didn't seem to care if anyone heard what he said in his deep tones. It might've been because he knew anyone overhearing their conversation wouldn't remember it later. "You'll want to prepare accordingly, I'm certain."

Not shock, no horror, not even a hint of dismay blemished her features. "So, then. It is true. Well. Sounds as if we do have some plans to make, then. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

Joseph only shook his head. "Nothing my father would be interested in hearing."

With another soft sigh, the woman delicately placed her half-empty coffee cup back onto its saucer. She hadn't so much as let a single drop roll down the side of the mug. "I suppose I'll be going, then." Resignation hung heavily about her as she slumped out of the booth.

"There's something else." His words made her freeze in midstep, half a pace away from where she had been seated. "Tell Christopher his latest project is in my exclusive care, and if he interferes further...he _will_ incur my wrath." Those heavy, angry words were delivered with no change in volume and only the slightest variation in tone. "Why do you think my father tolerates him?"

Once more, he saw her shoulders rise and fall in resignation. He reminded her of what she really was. Perhaps that was why she was taken with him. "Stripping him of his bloodlust would make him all but useless when we need him most." Her reply was every bit as world-weary as he believed her to secretly be. It had always seemed to him that she was exhausted from an eternity of selling herself out, on one level or another. "Please...don't be a stranger." Her words lingered behind her like a long blue shadow, drifting into the air behind her and filling the space between them.

The ride there had been quiet the first few hours. Taila sat staring out the window, silent, which was nothing like her. When Aria had wanted long enough for her friend to say something, to no avail, she decided to turn the radio on. That was when Taila stirred.

She appeared almost mad at the attempt to mask what was wrong, her index finger jolting the power button. "So…tell me about him."

"Huh?" Aria plays dumb, glancing away from the road. "Who?"

"_Joseph."_ Taila replies, her eyes narrowed and feline as a grin splayed across her features.

Aria's mouth opens, but only a startled sound releases. "H-how…"

"You were saying his name in your sleep yesterday, doofus."

This made Aria first blanch, then blush. She remembered the dream, yes, but it wasn't anything that Taila was suspecting. It had been a replay of the night Abyss had attacked them, only…Aria had been able to summon the same energy-saber Joseph wielded. He had been hurt, and that's why she had called his name…"He's, he's my friend." She answers after a short pause.

"Uh-huh. Liar." Taila is leaning over the divider, poking Aria's shoulder. "Tell me about him."

Aria knew she wouldn't give up, and when she sighs in defeat, Taila settles back down into her bucket seat with a blossoming sense of pride in her work. "He's a nice guy." That wouldn't be enough, as her friend then grunts and makes hand motions for more. "Well, he's strong, uhm…rugged I guess you'd say."

"Not like that pretty boy we saw you with on campus, huh? What happened to him?"

Aria almost chokes, "Ah, I never heard back from _him._"

"Ouch. He was hot." Taila murmurs, taking a sip of a soda that they'd picked up in a drive-thru. "How bout this one?"

"D'ah…" She could feel her eye begin to twitch. And before she can reach up to conceal it, she feels a finger –not her own- against the corner of her eye.

"Hee hee…So I take it that you two aren't hot and heavy yet."

"No." Is all she can stammer. 

"But you _want _to…"

"Nh! Stop that!" Swatting her away, Aria grips the steering wheel tightly. "We're _just friends!_ Nothing more!"

Taila has burst into a fit of laughter, while calms after a few minutes. "Oh…c'mon. you know I'm just playing with you. I'll stop." Looking out the window again, she beams, "I do want to meet him, though. Its my duty to grade him."

"Your…what?"

"My duty!" More forcefully, "As your best friend, its my job to make sure that you aren't hooking up with some jerk!"

"We're not…" Sighing, she leaves it alone. The next two hours are filled with Taila's theory of best-frienditude, as she called it. Most of it, Aria tried to tune out, but after a while…her friend goads her for her thoughts. Now she had to pay attention…

"Kicking hotel. We gatta remember to go with …whoever you went through, next time!" Taila is jumping on the bed now, her fingertips unable to touch the ceiling. Yes, the hotel was fantastic, especially for the rate they got. There was a Master bedroom, where their two full-sized beds were. The bathroom was to their right, and beyond the bedroom was a living area with a kitchenette. All was furnished, and wonderfully clean.

"Travelocity." Aria replies closedly. She was belly-up on her own bed, her arms stretched high above her head, and her legs hanging off the end. After such a long drive…this was great. Soon, that peace is disturbed as Taila lunges her from her side of the room.

"C'mon! Beach time!" The girl squeaks, pulling off her own shirt. She had come prepared; underneath was a sapphire blue bikini top. "C'mon!"

"Ugh…let me go change…" Aria was hoping for more time to rest, but maybe a walk outside would help.

"You think anyone's going to see this?"

Aria looks up, and focuses on how Taila is pointing to her cheek. It was barely swollen now, not at all anything to worry over. "No, I think its fine." She replies, snorting amusedly. It was herself they should have been worried about. Her shoulder was still bruised, but the length of her hair could take away from that. But that meant she couldn't put it up in a ponytail.

She wondered if the suit she was wearing was too much, or too little…really. Taila had told her that as thanks for the tutoring she'd done for her last semester, she'd buy her a new swimsuit. Turns out, her friend had bought one that _she _would like, not Aria. And so, that left her in a skimpy, barely covering green triangle top and low-rider bottom. Not at all what she would have preferred.

"Oh! Look over there!" Taila's arm zips past Aria's face, barely missing her nose.

Aria follows, then rolls her eyes at the target: A slew of muscle-heads playing volleyball. "Oh, the drool. I can't control it." She strums sarcastically.

"What's wrong with you?" The sudden change of tone actually startles Aria. She turns to her roomie, who looks completely affected. "You've changed over the past few weeks. Is it because of what happened _that night_?"

She knew what Taila was speaking of, her performance night. "You know, it wasn't your fault. It was probably some sort of mold that had gotten caught up in the vents and when the turned the air on…boom! Spores everywhere! I bet you that's what happened…no doubt that's why the school never said what it was. They don't want a lawsuit!"

Sighing softly, Aria nods. "Yeah, I guess."

She needed to do better. Otherwise, Taila was going to figure out too much. They'd had a dangerous close call before; she didn't want her friend involved in this. She needed to do far better. "Hm. I want a snow cone." Saying this in a distant murmur, she grabs her friend's hand. "There's a hut at the other side of the beach, I spotted it from our room."

"I want…hm. Lime."

"Uhm…" Scanning the list, Aria can't decide. "Well…hm. Rainbow." They all looked so good, she'd just have them all. Now that they had a cold treat, the hot sun was almost bearable. She could sense that her skin was starting to take on the rays, lucky for her it was nearly dusk when they arrived. Otherwise, she probably would have been a lobster by now.

"I'll definitely have to wear some SPF tomorrow." She mutters between bites as they settle onto some rocks by the shoreline.

"Hee, hee. You gothic thing." Taila giggles, inadvertently spilling some of her melting cone.

"You clumsy thing." Aria retorts, grinning. Reclining, she gasps lightly at the cold, moist rock against her bare back. It felt nice, but was a little of a shock since the air was so warm. "I'm glad we decided to come." Her words have deeper meaning that the usual vacations comment. She glances over at Taila, who is staring deeply into the blue. "You ok?"

"Yeah." Taila replies, softly. "I'm sorry…about…you know."

"Don't apologize." She says this quickly, halfway leaning up, "Its my fault, since I didn't uphold _my duties_." Seeing the confusion in those gray eyes, Aria continues, while looking away, "I should have been able to see that he was going to turn into a jackass." She doesn't turn, even as she peripherally notes movement. Soon, a pair of arms crosses around her shoulders, and a cheek is lain to rest against one of them.

"Don't blame yourself."

It becomes a mild night, the sort of mild night where the cold air sticks to the outsides of one's clothing and the insides of one's nostrils. The briny scent stirred about the town, mixing with car exhaust and oil and-in places-cheap beer and wine and perfume. It was air that belonged in a resort town on a fair spring night.

The man in the alley seemed oblivious to all of it: the crisp warmth all about him, the smell of life and livelihood and misspent youth. From the age of his face, he might well have been in town to enjoy a vacation he wouldn't remember with friends he wouldn't keep. From the expression on his face, he was most likely not intent on any of those things. Instead of looking to the night with eager energy, his brown eyes are stolid and fatigued. His long hair, untied, spills in loose damp curls over the back of his leather jacket, and his skin, already dark by birth, is a deep shade of bronze only earned through months and years of hard outdoor labor.

There were people his age in the hotel next to where he'd been working, he thought as he glared in the direction of a girl's excited giggle. She must have been startled by a friend or lover. Heaving a sigh, he begins to tie his hair back into a ponytail as he stalks slowly out of the alleyway.

The building he'd just left was a hotel, as well, but this one had been shut down when its owners defaulted on a mortgage. Now, it was being renovated; the deadline was the end of the spring season, and that meant long hours at work for the contracting crew whose sign decorated the hastily-erected steel privacy fences. The other side of the alley is a simple concrete wall, the side of the hotel that entertained carousers.

College students, of course, weren't the only people in town with the surge of warm weather. Neither were contractors. At the far end of the alleyway, a shadow peers in, then rapidly withdraws. Hushed whispering follows, then three heads leaning into view at once, followed rapidly by three bodies. With the light at their backs, it takes a few moment for the man in the alley to make out the details of their denim and leather jackets, of their bandanas and sunglasses, and their assortments of patches. Two of the patches in particular tell him his day isn't yet over: Road Bandits, with an overlaid six-gun pointed outward at the world menacingly; and 1%er, marking the wearers as people who led the life of outlaws.

Avoiding direct eye contact, the laborer shuffles forward, pretending to be oblivious to their presence. The jeers begin, as he knows they must, when he is five or ten feet from them. "Hey," the one in the front, an older-looking man with scraggly brown hair and malice in his hidden eyes, "Hey, spic." No response. Their target keeps walking. "Hey." By now, he was almost close enough to touch. This would be what would determine his fate for the night. "Hey, wetback. We're talkin' to you."

The taunts continue. "What are you doin' in there? Takin' work from Americans, huh? You're the reason this place is so fucked up, you know that?" Throughout the verbal barrage, the walker continues on his path. "If people like you didn't come here and talk all our jobs..." Physical contact. Their leader seizes his arm. "What's the matter, hommes? Got nothin' to say?"

At that range, the stench of sweat and bitter whiskey on the ganger was almost overwhelming. Their eyes lock, briefly, before the construction worker rolls his arm to break the contact. "Nope." The word, dropped with authority, has a ring that takes them aback. It drawls and dangles about them, and carries none of the self-effacing style or slight lisp one would expect from an extralegal worker. "Now, let me go."

"Well..." For just a moment, the shock of his accent almost pushed the men away. Not to be deterred, their leader leans in and mocks that instead. "...Well. Y'awl hear that, boys...? Sounds like we got us a real cowboy." His tone became quieter as he leaned into the man's face. "Alright, Tex. You ever do your duty and report all those damn spics in there?" The motorcycle ganger pointed a finger into the worker's chest.

Maybe it was meant to be, or maybe it was a mistake; but the girls happened to have misplaced themselves in that very same area. They had heard about some sort of 'awesome bar' and were headed there when they took a wrong turn that led them into an intimidating scene. "Oh shit." Taila's voice startled Aria, since she rarely heard her friend speak like that, her gaze snaps up from the map she was eyeing. Seeing the group ahead, which was in –her thoughts- a pack formation, and a younger man the apparent target, she feels a surge of anxiety well up in her chest.

"Don't do that." Apparently, the man with the Western accent was also a man of few words. He glares with thinly veiled contempt at the finger in his chest before growling, "Move." In the humid air, the sweat from his day's work seemed to steam off the accosted.

In return, the leader of the thugs grabs the leather of his jacket sleeve instead. The young man's face visibly tightens, and Aria's trained eyes can see the muscles beneath his tight red shirt follow suit. She can see the way he pivots his foot, turning away from the man and whipping his arm out of the sleeve with a simple, direct movement. Half a second later, he is free of the jacket, showing off a physique that-like his complexion-exhibits every sign of being honed with years of physical effort. He was surely no older than either of the girls, but his path through life had been visibly different.

"We should get out of here." Taila's whispers tickle at her ear, but it only causes her to redden with anger, when she should have felt fear. Her friend's hands were wrapped around her arm at the elbow, squeezing and tugging slightly towards an alley that would lead them to the main street they'd started on. There were people there…it was safe.

"No." Aria replies, her voice although a whisper as well, was strong and nearly startled Taila just as she had been before. She doesn't move, leaving her companion swaying in nerves.

Having shed his jacket, the man continues to spin on his feet, putting all his movement into one solid punch. He even looks surprised when it connects, knocking the leader back. "Oh," he mumbles around a split lip. "You done fucked up, Tex."

"I don't want to do this." There was that same quite, intense ring in his words. "And you don't want to do this." Hyper focused on the three troublemakers, he was still unaware that others nearby were watching.

"Aria…please…"

She was sounding really upset now. Looking over, even her eyes were verging on moisture. Looking beyond her, "Go over there." Aria points to the alleyway, then grips Taila's hand back. "Go on."

At first, her friend wasn't going to abandon her. But there was a certain look in Aria that even scared her. Turning as the scene escalates, Taila watches while her friend observes the altercation. Her eyes were so intense, and she even lurched forward just before Taila had to turn when hearing a sound. The boy had punched one of those men!

One falter, that was all the difference. When the leader throws away his leathers, he finally sees the two girls beyond them, and his eyes widen. That intensity was still written into his features, but now...he shows fear. Taking half a step back, he whispers to himself. "No... Not here. Not now..." By the time he recovers from the shock, it's almost too late. The flash of metal through the air reflects in his eyes, but even as he feels the cool steel biting into the flesh at his side, the spark in his eyes grows. "You...have...to...stop...!" The attackers are on him in a flash as the air seeps out of him, words formed between gasps. Perhaps Aria can hear it: those words aren't sourced in fear, but in concern. Perhaps not.

He goes down under the combined weight of two of them, a heap of muscle and sinew and sweat and blood. And heat. "No," he pants to himself, setting his jaw. There were three. His hands begin to shake. The girl... She was trying to help him, and she even managed to intercept one of the troublemakers. "No... Get back, get back...!" He begins to lose feeling in his fingertips.

"Run away...!" The last word is quiet, but it is a dull roar, a roar accompanied by a flash of light and the whoosh of open flame. The two men who had jumped the worker recoil instantly, knowing they were suddenly alight, and not knowing why. Where their target had been, there was only the shadow of a man surrounded by... By fire. By fire and heat and smoke. In the depths where his eyes should have been, there was no thought. There was only...a will to live. "I'll burn you to ash..."

"Stop it!" Before she could even summon the words, they were pouring over her lips in a hoarse cry. The sound of moist gravel grinds under her sneaker as she lurches forward, pushing herself into a full-drive sprint towards the huddled mass. In the back of her mind, Taila was screaming her name, but it didn't matter. It wasn't heard fully. It meant nothing. The group of attackers was looming in her field of vision, or she in them. But she was only a girl, a small thing dressed casually to go party. Lowering her right shoulder, she collides with one of the men full force.

It sent them both rolling, surprisingly. Aria did manage to knock the man free of his intent, but she also bounced off of him in the process. The cracked asphalt bit into her shoulder where she was wearing a tank top, that had been a bad idea after all. She was barely aware of where her target had gone to when an intense heat burst through the air over her, causing her to cry softly and cover her face with her arms.

Blood still dripped from the wound in the man's side, but he no longer seemed to notice. The two men who had been atop him were too preoccupied with vainly trying to knock the flames free of their precious patches to immediately process what had happened. One of them, the follower, manages to pat himself out in a few seconds. With a shaky hand, he taps his leader on the shoulder. Still obsessed with somehow dousing the fire on his jacket, the man doesn't notice at first. It is only when he hears his own hair begin to sizzle that he looks up. Eyes widen, and men run away in unison, as rapidly as their legs can carry them, one of them treading on the worker's leather jacket in passing.

For his part, he remains at the far end of the alley, lighting the darkness with an aura that seems to wick and dance about his nude form, an unthinking passion the single spark in his eyes. That gaze, that heavy dangerous gaze, turns next to Aria. She can see his muscles tighten even more easily than she could before, and it looks as though she might be the target of an attack next.

This couldn't be happening…

Staring up at the figure, Aria's eyes only widen to a certain extent of acknowledgement, before squinting just barely. Pushing herself up onto her knees, and then back onto her feet, her shoulders are squared along with her posture straight as she returns the stare given to her. The men were gone, that was good. And they hadn't even noticed Taila cowering in the shadows, even better. Otherwise, she says nothing.

He takes one halting step toward her, then another. The asphalt beneath his feet begins to darken and displace. By the time he finishes his third step, every fiber in his legs tremble. Before he can take a fourth, he gives out a cry and collapses onto his hands. As quickly as they had come, the flames around him fade away. Then, he is simply a nude and muscular man, mostly free of body hair, on his hands and knees before her and gasping for air. Between pants, he manages to choke out a sentence. "It...happened...again..."

Aria isn't sure what to make of it, but just as the man collapses, a shoe sails right through the air where his head had been, or close to it at least. She has to dodge it, and does so barely. Behind the crumpled fellow, Taila squirrels her way towards them with a mismatched stride. "Don't you dare touch her!" The blonde yells, trying to afford some courage. "Or…or I'll do to you what she did to that guy!"

"Taila…" Is all Aria can manage, before it hit her –as though the shoe had struck her right in the brow- that Taila had witnessed…_that._ _Oh no…_

Still panting, with sweat steaming from his back and hair streaming down on either side of his face, the man affords Taila a dull glare before rasping, "My jacket." He points to it half-heartedly for just a moment before fatigue apparently forces him to use his arm to steady himself again. Unfazed by her outburst, he watches Taila expectantly.

"You-" Something else was going to be expelled from the girl's mouth when he speaks first, making a motion towards the only article of clothing he now had. It was sort of dawning on her, then. He was nude. It wasn't an admiring glance, so much as just looking, but there wasn't any sense of disgust, either. Taila picks up the jacket, and drops it within his reach, and then curves widely around him to side with Aria, who offers her the lost heel.

Apparently unashamed-or perhaps too focused on the task at hand to really care about modesty-the man on the ground braces himself before pushing back with his hands, pressing up to his knees. In a few moments, he has his jacket thrown over his shoulders and fastened in the front. It is long enough, thankfully, to make him look... Well, he might blend into a crowd, at least. With a sigh, he looks down at his knees. "Alright," he drawls. "It'll be best you forget what ya saw." The spark in his eyes is gone when he looks back to them; there is only that dead stare that masqueraded as contempt. "Better get goin' before people come by."

Aria had been glancing between the stranger and her friend the past few seconds. Taila was wearing a strong face, but there were tear marks down her cheeks. Could she convince her that this was all a dream? _Forget what you saw..._Probably not. "No." Snapping her head back around, Aria stares at the western man mirroring his dark visage. "Is there somewhere we can take you? You're hurt." The wound he bore at his ribs wasn't as bad as it looked, which she had distantly examined while he stood. But, they couldn't just walk away..

His shoulders still rise and fall in visible rhythm, but at least the rhythm is slowing with each passing second. With a muted grunt, he leans against a wall and lifts himself to his feet. "Yeah. Two girls drop a man wearin' just a jacket at a hospital." His tone is dark, and his words are mildly insulting. "No one'll have any questions about that." Bracing a hand againt his ribs and inhaling deeply, he adds, "Besides...I gotta work tomorrow."

"Work?" Aria retorts, frowning. Before she can continue, the sound of a body crumbling to the pavement sounds next to her. Taila's gone down, and all Aria could do in reply was slump her head and sigh. Kneeling, she grabs under her friend's shoulders and stares up at the man. "That'll get infected." Nodding towards his side, "Then you won't be working at all. Plus, are you going to leave two girls where those bikers might come back?"

His teeth clench visibly as he glares into the distance. "Dammit," he spits after a few seconds. "Alright. You win. No hospital, though." He looks at Taila with distant eyes before looking back to Aria. "You're holdin' up better than your friend. Reckon I should carry her?"

"What you did was just some parlor trick. Seen it in Vegas." Rolling her eyes dismissively, she stands alone with the lolling girl in hand. Only staring back at him as an answer to his question, she then asks, "Where to? She'll come around, soon. She started early, today." Meaning, alcohol.

He sees the way she easily supports her friend's weight. And the way she offers up her own plausible-sounding explanation for what had just happened. "My place ain't far, but it's no place for ladies. I'll be headin' there." The implication was obvious: he was still trying to ditch them.

"Oh, ok. Well then, lead the way." Completely ignoring the second part of his first statement, she beams an unrevealing smile and adjusts her friend in her arms. "I do have to say, when I saw that, the guy didn't have his clothes immolate too. That's pretty impressive."

"Yeah, yeah." He doesn't seem impressed by her attempt at humor. Instead, he composes himself and walks out into the street proper. "Maybe I oughta find out how he does it," he grumbles before taking a left turn. The trip back is through more dirty, dark alleys than brightly lit streets; she can almost feel the property values around them dropping as they wind their way along. He makes his way in silence, not making eye contact with anyone and resisting any attempts at idle chatter until she finds the three of them standing in front of a dirty door that leads into a below-street apartment. Perhaps it was forethought that led him to keep his keys in his jacket, but that is where they are.

He throws the heavy door open and begins to step inside. "Well," he mutters, "Thanks. Or somethin'. I don't know." The darkness in the next room threatens to engulf him. "You oughta get her back someplace safe."

This reminded her of the other side of down where she had met Joseph, only far worse. On top of that, she knew there were bad types in the _better _part of town. One could only imagine what crawled here. Which, happened to be, whatever this man was as well. Where he blocks the door, she stares expectantly. "I will, when she wakes up. I can't just drag her back across the city, and defend us ya know." Perfect strangers, and that was some static between them already!

There was that sigh again. This time, it mingled with a dismaying grunt. "I knew I shoulda dropped you both at your place," he mumbles before leaning through the doorway. The door is still open when, a few moments later, a light clicks on. "Well? You comin', or not?"

The interior of the room lives up to the promise offered by the brick steps receding from a cracked sidewalk. The floor is concrete. There is almost no furniture. A small television sits on a metal footlocker in one corner, near a small bedroll. In the other corner, there is a dormitory-sized refrigerator and a hot plate. A door offers a bedroom against the right-hand wall. It was a world removed from what most people thought of as "contemporary America," and barely any place for someone to live.

Giving a nod, she tilts herself and aligns the girl in her arms so that she doesn't bump off the frame. Nudging it closed behind her with her foot, Aria takes a glance nonchalantly and then looks down at her friend. There is no sort of emotion in her eye, just a stoicism that led to nothing noteworthy. "Well, something must have stopped you." She comments, absently.

"Stopped me?" He didn't invite them in. He didn't tell them to take a seat, but that was just as well: there weren't any chairs. The man looks up from the footlocker, which he's opened. As he speaks, he removes a threadbare white shirt and denim pants. Whatever his thoughts are as he looks them over in his hands, he doesn't share.

"Nevermind." Coolly looking astray, the stronger of the two girls sits her friend down against the wall. Leaning her so that she won't slide and fall, the redhead stands and rubs her scuffed shoulder. "So, do you have a first aid kit?" Her back remains to him since he's brought out clothes, and only now is there any friction at her otherwise pale cheeks.

"Yeah," he ungraciously mutters. Bare feet still somehow manage to stomp across the floor to the bathroom door. "Be back out in a second. Make yourself at home." He throws the last phrase out with obvious sarcasm; when he emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, he wears the shirt-shrunk from too many washings-and the pants instead of the jacket, which he carries. The other hand holds a plastic bag. "Already patched myself up. Here." He chucks the bag in her general direction, then flops down on the bedroll with no further acknowledgement of her presence, lacing his fingers behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

She catches it, and passes him a glare as he moves by. "Patched it, or threw a band aid on it and saw that it was 'good'." She whips back at him. Her shoulder would be fine; it was his side she was worried about. It was only a flesh wound, but she couldn't tell whether or not it needed stitches. Shaking her head, she sits down next to her friend and uses an alcohol pad to dab at the semi road burn on her shoulder.

There is another long, heavy sigh. It was so long after her comment that it doubtless pertained to his thoughts instead of to her words. He sheds some insight on his musings when he verbalizes, "How much o' that did ya hear?"

"Hm?" Looking up from a futile attempt to wake her friend by holding that swab under her nose, the girl shrugs. "Enough I guess. Buncha jerks." Letting her hands fall into her lap due to the stubbornness of her companion, she looks back at him, "Why?"

"I ain't Mexican," he drawls, lolling his head over to one side to look at her. "I'm Navajo." Looking back up to the ceiling, he continues. "This place here's better than some places on the reservation." There isn't any self-pity in his words, only a simple statement of fact and-just perhaps-a mournful tone for those left behind. "I get why they wanna come here, though. Make a better life, and all."

She seems offset at his words, "Well, I could tell _that_." Muttering this vehemently, her lips purse. "That's cool, that's what the human condition is about though, right? Making one's situation better." Turning back to her friend, the girl pokes at that other's cheek lightly.

"That why you're here?" Just like that, whatever geniality he was exuding is gone, replaced instead with less-than-gentle chiding. He doesn't seem to notice the spreading patch of red on the white of his shirt.

"No, we're on vacation." The girl's expression is very displeased with the current situation, obviously. This couldn't be her idea of a good time, but she didn't seem as city-girl as her friend did. The unconscious blonde was dolled up beyond belief; the fancy makeup, lowcut glittery shirt, and jeans riding low enough to tempt any hopeful eye. "So didja band aid it, or not?" She asks suddenly, pointing to his side.

"Huh?" Leaning forward, he inspects the spreading crimson over his ribs. "Dammit." With a grunt, he leans back. "Now I gotta buy two shirts..." He hides it well, but she can see the grimace on his face when he shifts position.

"Depends." Saying this casually, she shrugs. "Saliva takes blood out, if you don't wait too long." Watching his reaction, her eyes are half lit with disapproval. "Come on, Tai. Wake up." Giving her friend a good shake by the shoulder, she comments at him. "She knows first aid and can probably take care of that." _If she doesn't freak out, first. _

For the second time, she feels his eyes on her. Joseph's attention usually felt like an invasion; from the un-named young man, it felt far less intrusive. "You sure that's a good idea?" he grumbles. "Not sure how she feels about Vegas stage tricks, or whatever."

"_Well you gatta work_." Reminding him, she quickly drops her case when her friend 'Tai' begins to rouse. "Ah, there you are…" the redhead smiles, rubbing her shoulder. The girl starts, "Aria!" grappling onto the now named other, the superficial thing begins rambling. "What happened? Where are we? Who- what-" Then, her eyes settle on _him._

"Hi," he grumbles in return, barely affording Aria's chattering friend more than a glimpse before going back to inspecting the ceiling. "Name's Gregory. Friends call me Greg." There is a pause, and he adds, "Most people call me Gregory. And this is my place. That answer most o' your questions?"

_Was he holding them captive?_ Gripping Aria, Taila doesn't gather any sort of hint to that theory. Especially with how lax the man is. Aria does seem perplexed though, which she doesn't understand. "Uhm…what happened?"

"You're now banned from Absinthe." Aria deadpans, gathering her attention. "You started rattling off something about fire and dropped! I'm pouring the rest of that shit down the drain when we get back."

A sharp eye might catch Gregory poking his tongue in the side of his mouth at Aria's words. Here she was, telling her friend an entirely different lie. That was all the proof he needed: he wasn't the weirdest thing she'd seen. "You'll be damn lucky to get outta that headache alive tomorrow." With another grunt, he pulls himself into a sitting position. His wound seeps. "Friend says you're decent with a bandage. Mind fixin' me up, since I helped you with those muggers and all?"

Taila stares at him, as if he were something foreign, and frightening. It wasn't for the sake of what she saw before her now, but what she had seen…or thought she had? "Oh, I-" looking down at the growing patch at his shirt, she blanches. "I don't know…its been a while."

"Come on, Tai. He did help us." Gripping the other girl's shoulders, Aria glances at Gregory momentarily. "You don't still feel bad, do you?"

"Its well…a little." Holding her head, she takes a slow breath. "Er…ok. Do you have a-?" before she could finish, Aria is holding up the makeshift kit. "Oh, thanks. So what all do we have in here?" The girl's words as slow, measured, but not slurred by alcohol at all. She seems more a train wreck of nerves, than anything.

Iodine. Adhesive bandages. Gauze. Medical tape. An unopened tube of burn cream. Anti-fungal cream. All stuffed in a plastic shopping bag. While she inspects the contents, Gregory removes his shirt again and leans against his wall with yet another sigh. "Long day," he mumbles absently as explanation.

"Hm." Spreading out everything excepting the creams, the blonde moves closer to Gregory. Unlike before, there is a redness to her cheeks, but she doesn't look directly at him while looking over the wound. "It almost needs stitches, but I think it'll be ok without if you don't move around a lot for the next few days." Over her shoulder, Aria is staring at him. "Well, let's clean it up." Maybe it was a comfort to say what she was about to do, or perhaps that had been common practice with whoever taught her what she was doing now. Gingerly, she cleans a half-handswidth area around the cut, and then pinches it shut before covering it with gauze, and then lacing it over heartily with tape to keep from peeling with each twitch or breath.

The blade seemed to mostly deflect off of one of his ribs, but still found its way through a small amount of muscle. At least it went no deeper. Gregory is a good patient, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth when she swabs on the disinfectant. "Well?" he grumbles as she finishes. "Am I gonna live?"

This produces a smile, "Yeah. Prognosis looks good. Just keep it clean, and don't move a lot. It could tear if you do."

Listening absently, Aria is staring off into space. Had Joseph followed them, after all? If he had, he would have intervened. Or maybe…would he have tested her with this radical? There was no way he could have set this up, or expected it, was he there right now? Glancing around while attention was away from her, Aria glares at the open air.

"I'll keep that in mind." The words are noncommittal, and he reaches for his shirt again. Looking down at the somewhat flustered woman, he can't resist the temptation to goad her further. "You done, nurse?" For the first time since they've met him, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"That's Doctor, to you." Taila grins further while jutting a finger at him. Yes, that was it. Or at least, she thought so. Turning around to her friend, she's confused by the startled stare in Aria's eyes when they meet. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Felt a chill." Shivering falsely, Aria stands. "Well, _Gregory_…I guess we'll be going." Helping Taila up, after she has shuffled all the items back into the kit. "Thanks for you help, I guess we owe you a drink sometime. Or something."

"Yeah!" With a lot more enthusiasm than Aria holds, Taila spins towards Gregory. "We should do that! Not tonight, or anything! But…we should!"

"I don't drink." The words are pointedly said, and punctuated with a glance at Aria. "Besides, I'll be fine here. You know." Gregory pulls himself to his feet. He sounds more like he's trying to convince himself than them as he continues, "You don't wanna hang out with me, anyway. I'm no fun."

Where the redhead seems unfazed entirely, the blonde is dejected. "Oh…ok." The girl's shoulders slump. Aria is affected by this enough to pass him a stale glance, but then she puts a hand on Taila's shoulder. "Let's get you home, before you divebomb again." Moving towards the door, Gregory receives one sad look, and then a blank one, "Take care."

They're just about to leave, when Aria turns around sharply and stalks back across the room. Pushing her hand out towards him, "Thanks."

Gregory looks down at the hand, then looks at her. For just a second, she can see that fire buried deeply in his eyes. Finally, he takes her hand. "You're, uh, welcome." Before releasing her hand, he leans in to whisper, "My last name's Riverbird. Look me up."

Maybe, just maybe it was possible. Just enough…just to keep it from opening further. That's all that was necessary. Gripping his hand tightly, she keeps her eyes closed and speaks lightly. "You're a good guy. Don't work too hard." There's a tingling feeling in his hand, probably from the work he'd done all day, and then the fight, his blood wasn't coursing as well to a hand raised above his head. As she lets go, her eyes open, and there is a steadiness in them that only comes from intense concentration. It's only a flash, and then she turns and leaves with her friend. "Bye Gregory!" Taila chirps.

House Fire Kills 3 on Local Reservation

At around 3 am this morning, a mobile home caught fire in the Navajo Nation. By the time emergency personnel could respond, the house had been burned almost to the ground.

The only survivor of the fire has been identified as 13-year-old Gregory Riverbird, who is being treated for smoke inhalation at a nearby hospital. Authorities are pursuing the possibility of arson.

Had they escaped disaster as she had so hoped? This hadn't been what she had expected, nor wanted for this trip. The plan had been to go to the beach and relax, not run into more oddities that brought about otherworldly theories and fears. Now that she'd gone down the rabbit hole, was there _anywhere_ she could hide from all of this?

Sitting in the master area of the hotel room, Aria leans on the edge of her bed and stares out the window. Taila had slept through all of her training that morning, which was good she supposed. The girl didn't wake up until noon, though, and that had been with Aria's goading that she was starving.

Rather than going out, since Taila was afflicted with a headache, they ordered room service and were able to enjoy a relatively quiet meal; that was until questions started surfacing.

Aria knew it was coming, especially when Taila began prodding her scrambled eggs with her fork. "Aria," she started, her voice so distantly toned. She was an open book, "What happened last night?"

Feigning mild confusion, she looks up, "Well, do you remember walking down the alley and seeing those biker-guys bullying Greg?" After receiving a nod, "Not long after that, you blacked out."

"But I thought we got mugged." Taila mirrors, her face knitting slightly.

"Yeah, we almost did. The bikers completely disregarded Greg when they saw us. That's how I got this." Pointing to her shoulder, where there was a deep scrape. She tries to pull a smile of reassurance together when her friend's eyes sadden in shame, "Its ok, one of them just shoved me when I tried to hit him. Then Greg came back and saved us."

"Is that when he got stabbed?"

"Yep. It's a good thing that you woke up, I was getting worried that he needed stitches." Aria replies coolly, smiling. "You really need to teach me what you know, sometime."

"Why?"

The retort was somewhat pointed, which caught Aria off guard. "Well, ya know. Its good to know these things in case something happens…like that!"

"Oh." Taila chuckles lightly, then after a few bites, she begins that fidgeting again. "I think I should stop drinking, altogether."

"Hm?" The notion didn't sound like the party-loving blonde that Aria knew, "Why's that?"

"Well," the girl shrinks in shame again, "Seems like every time I get into heavy stuff, I start hallucinating."

"Every…time?"

"Yeah." She looks astray, "Last night, and then the night that…well…of your show."

"You were drinking that night?" That felt like a stab to her.

"No, no! I don't mean, I knew your show was going to be great! I was just really stressed out that morning…I'm sorry. You're show _was_ great."

The damage was already dealt, but Aria knew it was unintentional, "Well, you're probably right. But don't go cutting yourself in half out of worry. Heavy stuff, yeah, stay away from that. I poured the last of that Absinthe down the drain last night. Just, only mixed drinks from now on, ok?" Seeing her friend smile was contagious.

Taila had gone shopping, but it wasn't a worry; given that there was a little shopping square right out front of the hotel. They had their respective cell phones, and each other's number on speed dial, so Aria wasn't inclined to tag along. It was a chance to meditate, but she just couldn't find it in herself to relax that much. An annoying thought: here she was, at a lovely beach in a bouncing town, and all she could do was pace in her room. The information she'd Googled was making her anxious, for she knew without premonition that they were likely to meet up with Gregory Riverbird again.

_I wonder if…_Thinking to herself in pacing, Aria takes a look around the room she occupies. If Joseph were there, would he have shown himself by now? If she called him, would he appear? Again, theories pop into her had. Maybe he was there, but he wanted her to figure out what to do on her own. He was always digging for her thoughts, even though it seemed to her that he already knew them. His heavy, evanescent stare made her feel transparent sometimes. A rush courses through her body, causing her to shiver. No, if he was here and not showing himself, it was up to her to decide what course of action to take. She wouldn't give up and beckon him like some kid. Plus, how stupid would she feel if she started hollering his name and realize that he _wasn't _there?

It was about 7pm. Right before, or right after; she wasn't sure since she'd forgotten her wristwatch at the hotel, and they'd left their mobiles there for sake of the water. Spending most of the evening on the beach had been nice. The money they'd pushed into their bikinis was spent mostly on treats, and now they were left to lounge on the sands and watch the waning colors in the sky. Taila had forgotten her towel, so she was sitting on Aria's while she simply reclined against the sand. It didn't really matter, she preferred it now really. The sun had been so hot; the siliceous granules were cooling to her skin.

He'd gone to work the next day, of course. He said he would, and he wouldn't have said it if it wasn't his intention to do so. Working at a construction site desperately trying to make an altogether too-close deadline meant working with the desperate. Some were from other countries, of course. Some, like him, simply had no real marketable skills. Some had exhausted all their good karma, and so were left with physical effort alone to sustain them.

It was the last group that heckled him on the job for being tired, bleary...slow. He expected that, the jibes and the fatigue; he never slept well the night after an "incident", and the night before had been no exception. Until about two in the morning, he'd tossed and turned. Finally, he'd gone into his bathroom and used the one item he'd taken out of his first-aid bag before giving it to the girls: a disposable cigarette lighter. Delicately, he'd removed the bandage the girl-Tailia? Was that her name?-had put over his ribs. The wound, he noticed, was smaller than he'd first thought it to be. No matter: when he struck the lighter's flint and held the flickering flame underneath the gash, the cut began to knit itself closed, sealing like the zipper on his bedroll. After that, finally, he was able to sleep.

Even thinking back on those events made him sweat as he stood on the balcony of the hotel where he worked, savoring a short break. His frame was broad, and even leaning against the balcony railing, he still looked imposing. The humid air and the ocean breeze clung to his skin and hair and made him wince his eyes as proof against the acrid scent. The girl that had bandaged him had a cute, if slightly absent, expression. And the other one, Aria...she knew. She knew, and she knew enough to lie about what she knew. He found his eyes darting over the beachcombers, looking for perhaps a familiar pair.

With a snort, he chastised himself. He was dreaming again. It didn't matter how cute they were, or how much he could tell them about himself. If any other two college students had walked into that alley that night, they would've passed out from the shock alone. Hell, one of them had. It was damn near a miracle it'd been those exact two that had stumbled onto his fight the first time. He'd probably never see them again. "Senor?" The voice called from behind him, continuing on in Spanish: "We need to get back to work."

Another soft sigh. "Si," he growled, replying in his coworker's native tongue. As he turned to go, his fingers lingered atop the balcony railing for a long moment, and the back of his brain needled him as he glimpsed to figures down below. One was resting in the shade, one was strolling on the beach nearby. Naw, he thought. Couldn't be.

"Aria." It was the fourth time she'd called to her, and she was just about to reach over and shake her when she whips her gaze away from the sea. "Geez!" Taila gasps, jumping. "What's wrong with you?" Aria had been acting weird all day, and come to think of it, she'd acted weird the whole walk home.

"I'm sorry." Her reply was very short, embarrassed still, but quick. Taila frowns, then nudges Aria's knee with her toe. "Are you thinking about your Bo?"

"Ch…no!" The way she snapped her gaze away, and that flush upon those Irish cheeks told Taila that her friend was lying. "You suck at fibbing, ya know." Giggling, the blonde tackles the redhead into the sand. "And ya know…girls are allowed to make the first move, too." Grinning broadly at the now blushing face beneath her, Taila smirks. "Yeah, I thought so."

"_It's not_ _like that._" Yeah, Aria could say that a million times, and she may have in the course of that evening, but it didn't matter. Taila knew something was going on, and wouldn't let it slide. But when Aria asked if they could go out for a drink, she was surprised, but not unwilling either.

Another surprise; Aria _willingly _let Taila dress her for the night! Clad in something girly for once, the two darted through the hotel's recommended venues and chose one called The Red Door. An Irish folk-rock band was due to play there, and so they were as the duo walked through the door and made their way to a free table.

"This is pretty cool!" Aria chirps, that cloud of distance lifting from her shoulders visibly. "Yeah, I know. That's why I chose it!" Taila replies, laughing softly.

Normally, he didn't go out in crowds. That was doubly true for crowds in cities, crowds filled with people a world apart from the life he knew. Too many things could happen, too many things could go wrong.

But it was Friday, and, dammit, he wanted a cheeseburger and fries.

His look could best be described as blue-collar dress-up: his cleanest brown shirt and his blackest denim, with his leather jacket added almost like an afterthought. For quite possibly the first time all week, he didn't smell of sawdust and sand and sweat and cement, even if he was quite sure all four still could be found in the densest tangles of his hair.

If it hadn't been that, it would've been the grass and cow manure, asphault and hot tar. He couldn't remember the last time the hair at the back of his head and the skin under his fingernails had been absolutely clean. He could scrub for hours, and he was sure that the grime he'd built up over the years would still find a way to radiate through. Even if he could've made it through a lifetime of dirt and toil, there would always be the faint smell of smoke.

Apart from being underdressed and looking glum, he found he blended in rather well with the crowd. He'd picked that particular dive at random, and it turned out to be slightly better than his usual scene. That meant it was slightly more expensive and much more crowded. It was filled with trust-fund kids and people leveraging their parents' pasts against hopes of a better future for themselves. They were all his age, too. None of that did anything to improve his sour expression.

Some band or other was on a stage. He was vaguely aware of that. But as long as the staff brought him his food, he was content to ignore the over-loud din. The burger itself was slightly cold and undercooked, and his fries were limp. Halfway through his first bite, he heaved a cold and limp sigh in tribute.

"From the ladies."

Dark brown eyes rolled away from the pitiful burger to the server, a fresh-faced boy half his own size with a ready smile and a sparkling white bar towel tucked in his belt. He carried a tray with a single shot of dark brown liquid on it. As soon as it was obvious that Gregory saw what was in his hands, the waiter gestured to a pair of tittering girls crouched at the bar's far corner. One was slightly heavier than the other, and both were pretty enough in that bottle-blonde sort of way...if you could look past the haze already in their eyes, a haze already visible in the half-light.

"Don't drink," he grumbled, turning his attention again to his meal. Ignoring the server's slightly exacerbated expression, he inhaled deeply through his nose before taking his next bite. Somehow, it seemed even less appealing than the one before, tainted with the sick sting of...

Disappointment. From the ladies, he replayed in his head. He realized then why he'd even bothered going to anything more evolved than the local chain burger joint. He was still hoping to find them there. Disgusted, he dropped the burger onto the fries and lowered his head. He was being a damned fool, and he knew it.

Not but a few minutes later, the same waiter from before returns. He obviously expects yet another rejection, since he's holding another drink on his small tray. But before the young man before him can say a word, he pulls a napkin from the tray and pushes it at him. "It's just a soda, and there's a note."

The napkin is folded in half, and upon first inspection there are two different hands that had worked the pen used to stain the cloth. The note at the top read, "Hi Greg! ^_^" and the latter, "Not gonna act uptight to us, are you?"

As he looks up, not only has the waiter left the soda and retreated, but there are four pairs of eyes on him. The glaring girls at the bar he'd declined, and then another pair at a table just beyond the bar. One, a blonde with her hair up in pins, is waving an arm madly. The other, a redhead with a knowing stare, is making a haphazard salute with a lax hand.

"Guh..." Gregory looks down at his meal with somber eyes. "It's gettin' so a man can't even eat in peace," he grumbles. Still slightly slumped, he leans down off of his chair and and collects his jacket, then his platter. Finally, he takes the soft drink in hand and walks over to the two familiar faces. "What're you doing here?" he challenges tersely.

Where Aria passes a solemn glare, Taila doesn't seem to even notice his dark tone. "What's it look like?" She giggles. Before the both of them are drinks, as well as a salad in front of her, and a burger in front of the redhead. Sitting her elbows on the table, Taila rests her chin against her folded hands. "How are you feeling?" She asks, a little more softly.

Gregory opens his mouth, then closes it. Aria might see the tension in his jaw before he adds, "Better, thanks." Then, there's a pointed silence. An awkward silence. It couldn't be more painfully obvious that he didn't know what to say.

She does see it, but she levels her face with a closed gaze. The chair beside him scoots out from the table by an unseen force. Taila perks, smiling at Aria before looking back at him, "Sit with us!"

"Uh... Thanks. I guess." His movements are stiff as he leans forward to place his drink on the table, then his platter. Finally, he carefully drapes his jacket over the back of his chair. When he speaks, it is with a bolt of inspiration. "What about you? Hung over?"

Taila's perpetual smile broadens, "Nope!" then, while looking at the still stoic Aria, she adds, "She made me drink a _ton _of water last night, I think that fixed it." Come to think of it, they had "drinks" before them, as well. Where Aria was nursing something dark and likely potent on the rocks, blondie's was a colorful, crushed ice mix with all the little umbrella fixins.

"How'd you know?" He glances back and forth between them, then gestures down to the bubbly beverage before him. "How'd you know I don't drink? And don't even start with the 'firewater' jokes."

Aria says nothing, which leaves the answer to Taila. "Oh, we just watched your reaction to those other girls." She laughs softly, "We were about to have another guy ask you to come over here with us when you got theirs."

"That so?" Gregory shoots Aria a knowing glare before picking up his burger again. After jamming a bite into his mouth, he leans back to watch them carefully. In a lot of ways, the two of them couldn't be more different. Then again, he couldn't have been more different from either of them. "You been watchin' me for a while, then?"

Finally, Aria speaks up where Taila is speechless. "Don't act like we're stalking you." She deadpans, which seems to exacerbate her friend's shock, "You're easy to pick out of a crowd, is all." The girl matches his glare. Did he even remember telling her to look him up sometime?

Even in his dark cheeks, it's easy to see the deep flush. "I..." This is where most people would apologize. When he bites at his lower lip, she can see the thoughts playing out in his face. Finally, he mumbles, "Sorry. I didn't mean..."

Blue eyes are darting between them, why was there so much static! "So, uh," she interjects, and suddenly Aria jumps as those something's bitten her. She looks down at her leg beneath the table, and then glares at her friend who is no longer looking at her. "Your side doesn't seem to bother you now, huh?"

"Nah," Gregory mumbles absently. "Whatever you did, guess it worked." He doesn't seem to be focused on his company. Even though he's watching his food, he only pokes at it vaguely.

Back into that silent air, Aria takes a sip of her drink. Taila, on the other hand, leans forward, down slightly to catch his gaze. "Something wrong?" A hand is suddenly pressing against his forehead. "Its not getting infected…is it?"

"No," he mumbles. "No, seriously. It's...fine." For the first time, there is vulnerability in his eyes when he looks at Aria. He could take knife wounds and never complain, but casual conversation apparently petrifies him.

Satisfied with his answer, she withdraws to glance between them again. Had something happened while she was unconscious? "Dh! Hey!" She shrieks, likely startling them both. Something has pinged her in the side of the head, and Aria is already out of her seat and glaring in the path of the trajectory: the bar.

"Eh?" Gregory is halfway out of chair before she can even turn around, ready to physical interject himself between whoever's troubling his companions. His sullen brown eyes have an ominous undertone. Surely he wouldn't. Not here.

It was his hopefuls, but the reaction they receive is far opposite of what they had expected. The two spin around quickly, their painted faces covering the loss of color. Aria glares, "I think I'm ready to go, if you are." Who is she speaking to? She isn't looking at either of them.

Gregory glances at his plate longingly. There was still half a burger left. With a sigh, he nods. "I'm just about done here. What about you, Taila?" He was right about the girls at the bar. They might've been his age, but they damn sure weren't adults.

"Uh, yeah. I think so." Rather than worrying about her stomach, she seems overtly startled by their reactions. More so her friend, given the dangerous look in those dark green eyes. She reaches out and pokes Aria's arm, who blinks and then looks down. "Oh, yeah, let's go." She reiterates, and then picks up her own burger after throwing money down on the table. It was going with them.

Gregory drops some money on the table and starts to storm off with the girls before hesitating, turning around, and picking up his hamburger. It was a bit cold and overpriced, but by God, it was his. Without bothering to wrap it, he clutches his jacket and stomps away.

An arm wraps around his as they trio moves out. Its obviously Taila, since Aria is leading the way. She isn't looking up at him, though, and rather over her shoulder with a sly, taunting smile in the direction of the bar. Once outside, Aria is tilting her neck from side to side to work out the stiffness. Her body shivers once, and she turns around with a calmer stance. "Hm, now what?"

He stiffened when she touched his arm-a movement his impressive physique magnifies-and only relaxes once they're outside again. Against the cooler night air, and without his jacket, Gregory fairly radiates heat. "Dunno," he grumbles. With a half-hearted glance over his shoulders, he adds, "Buncha rich girls tryin' to score with the 'help.' Hmph." Underneath his distaste, there's a hint of genuine sadness that fades as quickly as it came.

"I wouldn't have expected that type in a place like this." Aria comments, rolling her eyes within a blink. Taila's lacings finally fall, slowly though, and she offers him a little space. "Well, we can't let those whores ruin our night!" her right leg twitches as if tempted to stomp in addition to the exclamation.

"Naw, it's... It's okay." Burying whatever troubled him underneath a stoic facade, Gregory shrugs. "I don't know why I even bother goin' to these places." He takes half a step forward, then quickly adds, "And if either of you are cold, you damn well better take my jacket."

Aria seems to dislocate herself from the offer quickly, turning away to survey the street they occupy. Taila smiles, "I should have brought one, but I didn't think it would cool down so much." At her bare shoulders is only a pair of strings that led down to her yellow shirt. "We could just go for a walk?"

"Take it," he mutters, thrusting the arm carrying it out for her expectantly. "I'm...warm enough." Go for a walk. What an odd thought. A familiar red feeling creeps up his neck and into his cheeks, and his body tightens without his permission.

"Thank you." Her voice is much smaller, now. Sweeter. Watching him while pulling it over her shoulders, she keeps her arms out of the sleeves and knits her fingers around the opening. "We haven't gone down to the beach after dark yet!" This seems more aimed at her friend, who turns while nibbling the sandwich she'd brought along. She shrugs absently, then turns her gaze towards Gregory.

"Sure, whatever." His flat affect is a smooth covering for the tension in his shoulders, the clenching of his jaw. Apprehension hangs around him like an old friend. "I mean, I don't much care for the ocean, but..."

Aria's stare intensifies knowledgeably, but only for a second before she looks back to her friend. "It's way too cold to wade." Taila stiffens, retorting, "Well I know that!" She sighs softly, and then smiles at Gregory again as they begin to move out. "So what do you do?"

"This and that," he dully returns. Remembering his circumstances, he tries to force some of the tension out of his voice. "I mean, uh... You know. Anything I can get hired for." That didn't sound promising; what kept him from regular employment? "...I guess you girls are students?"

"Yeah." Taila grins, "I'm in business management, and Aria's in photography." She looks up at her friend, but then frowns to see that she's a few lengths ahead of them. "I guess she's still a little spazzed from the other night. Thanks again."

"Business, huh?" Gregory glances down at his feet as Taila shuffles along beside him. Shaking away his thoughts, he adds, "Those guys started trouble with me, too. Don't worry about it." He watches Aria walk along ahead of them with narrow eyes. What was she thinking?

"Well, its good to know that there's still some heroes out there." Is all she replies with.

Aria didn't like this situation at all. If this came out to be some kind of test from Joseph, she was going to kick him in the teeth. Maybe she should have asked him if he would come along. But, she was sure that he needed as much a vacation as she did. He had just been doing his…job? – and then she came out of nowhere. She wondered just how much of a burden she was on Joseph.

"I'm no hero," Gregory growls. It was possibly the most confident he'd sounded since they'd met. "Hey," he calls out, if only to change the topic of conversation. "You in a hurry for somethin'?"

This only stunts her talkativeness, as she turns to follow his calling. Aria, ahead of them, turns and for a moment has a blank stare. "Sorry." Is all she replies with, but she doesn't really wait for them to gain much ground before she starts off again. Though her pace is slower, now.

"She always like that?" he whispers to Taila as they plod along. Unlike Aria, his pace is deliberate and controlled. The salty air from the sea stings his nostrils, and the mist in the air feels unpleasant on his skin. But there were worse things than discomfort.

"Well, no." Taila replies, her voice gaining some distance. "There was an accident at our school, not long ago. She's sort of been acting weird ever since, I think she blames herself or something." There's definite worry there, along with slight confusion.

"Accident, huh?" It's hard for Gregory to hide his interest, but his normally stone-faced expression helps somewhat. "What do ya figure she'd blame herself for?"

"Well, that I haven't really pegged yet." Her head shakes slightly while she sighs, "She'd finally worked up the courage to perform publicly, and right at the end of it, a bunch of people started getting sick, me included. I think there was mold spores in the vents, so I don't know what she's so upset about." Pausing, she adds in a whisper, "I think she misses her boy-toy, too."

He hated to admit it, but all that sounded entirely too familiar. Right up until the last part. "'Boy-toy'?" he grumbles, not entirely sure he heard properly, himself. "What? He get sick, too?"

"No, he wasn't there. I don't know if they had met yet." Her lips purse, tilting to one side slightly. "I haven't really met him, but I've heard them talking in her room. Sort of."

"Her room?" At that, he can't help but sound a little surprised. From everything he'd seen, that was the last thing he expected. "The Hell?"

Taila looks up at him quickly, "What?" The expression on his face makes her laugh lightly. "What's that sort of look for?"

Her ears must have been burning, for as Aria touches down on the ramp leading to the beach, she turns around and waits for them wholly.

Maybe Taila wasn't used to his language. She wouldn't last a day on a ranch, or on a construction site, or laying asphalt. He's about to explain when Aria looks back to them. "Nothin'," he mutters. "Nothin' at all." He makes a mental note to ask Aria about this at the first opportunity; he's pretty sure even her friend doesn't know the whole story.

As the trio reforms, Taila is quick to remove her heels, as is Aria her sneakers and socks. The sand was considerably cool, but the air was still slightly warm aside from the spray dancing in the wind. Almost immediately Aria produces a hair band and constructs a ponytail at the base of her neck. She's still eerily quiet.

He wanted to ask, of course. He wanted to ask what was on her mind, but he knew she wouldn't answer honestly with Taila nearby. There were secrets all about her, and those secrets were hardest to keep from the people close to you.

Or so he imagined.

He plods along in his boots, apparently not minding the sand in the least. The beaches are still far from deserted, but less populated than they otherwise might be. "Need me to carry any shoes?" he offers quietly.

Aria shakes her head once, and Taila then mirrors in a friendlier manner. "No, thanks though. You're such a gentleman." The softest of chirps emanates after the compliment, her eyes closing momentarily. Both the girls are looking out over the see as they walk alongside it. Aria is stale in wonder, where Taila is completely taken with it.

Again, Gregory is a counterpoint to both of them: grim-faced, even looking out on the wonder of the ocean. He's uncomfortable, uncomfortable with the girls and uncomfortable in the damp night air. His musings are equally dark: was it worth befriending them? They'd be gone soon enough, and he'd be alone again. Then again, that might be the only thing that made interacting with them at all worthwhile...

Without really meaning too, the girls gravitate him towards the rock bed they had lounged on earlier that day. Each finds their respective spot from before, Taila patting a rock beside her for Gregory while Aria stares out over the lapping waters. "Do you…have any hobbies?" Taila asks, obviously trying to break the silence.

You saw my place. What do you think? That's his first instinct. He checks it, though, moving over to take the offered seat. "Not really," he half-heartedly replies, leaning forward to stare into the ocean. "I work a lot. And sleep. That's about it."

"You've never had _any _hobbies? Ever?" That wasn't enough of an answer. She was as bent on learning about him as it seemed Aria was about her not knowing anything.

"Used to ride horses," he intones. He glances past Taila to her friend before pointedly adding, "Then...there was an accident. Ain't really had the heart for it since. 'Sides, there ain't a stable for miles around here. Or, y'know...plains to ride on."

Aria doesn't turn, but her eyes swivel towards him. Taila loses that shimmering ray about her, "Oh, I'm sorry." Knowing that she's struck some sort of chord, she backs down immediately. "I haven't been on a horse since I was younger, but that was at a Fair. They kind of scare me." Her shoulders scrunch and she abashedly grins.

"They're...nice." Leaning forward, he rests his arms on his knees. "They don't really know or care where you come from. I've...never really felt that free." The life is gone from him completely when he continues, "It's...hard to explain, I guess."

Definitely empathetic, Taila's fingers come to rest lightly over his arm. At first, she doesn't seem sure with what to say, but then she finds something to utter. "You don't have to, then."

Much like when Aria grabbed his arm earlier, he tenses at her touch. He needs a change in conversation, and Aria just might offer one. Besides, part of him thought Taila might be getting a bit too attached to someone she wouldn't see again after the week. "You're quiet." It is stating the obvious, but it switched the topic of conversation.

Again, like before, she doesn't move, but she looks towards him. But the rest of her soon follows, "Yeah, so?" she replies coolly, "Been eating a burger and thinking. Besides, you two were deep in conversation."

"What?" The first word comes out of his lips almost without his permission, and it carries more tension than he realized it would. He closes his eyes and his mouth for a long moment and sighs. "Sorry. Didn't mean to cut you out." A new sort of malaise settles over him, and he goes back to glaring out at the waves. "Sorry," he mumbles again.

"Well I don't mean that I minded it." Her voice carries with a little more strength. Was their worry there? Taila, between them, is wriggling the sand off her toes. She didn't understand what was going wrong between these two, and it was aggravating her. "So what happened after I passed out?"

"I got a new chest-hole, and Aria took down one of them on her own. Aside from that?" Gregory shrugs. "Not much." What wasn't said was usually more important than what was.

Aria had blanched when the question had arisen, but Gregory's response makes her settle. With such a vague recounting, there was no way it could reflect differently against the story she'd given her. Taila seems alright with the answer, though still displeased with the overall situation. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom, be right back!" Standing quickly, and leaving her shoes and his jacket there, she tip-toes off the rocks and starts towards the bathroom/shower area on the far side of the beach.

As soon as she's out of earshot, Gregory lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. With nothing between them but cool air, he turns to face her fully. "Aria, look, I'm sorry. I... I'm not used to bein' 'round people. You...probably know why...?"

Blinking slowly, she nods, still looking out over the vast sea. "The internet is a vast source of information these days, usually leading to stuff you don't want to be known." Glancing over at him, "So what happened? Really?"

"I had a bad dream." He shifted his posture to match hers as he made his confession. "When I woke up...everything was gone. Everything...except a little Indian boy." Grimly, he adds, "Y'know, lots of people just lookin' for little orphaned boys to take in these days."

To detach, she looks away again. "Go on." This, this sounded like something that deep down she wouldn't want to know at all. But for the moment, she needed all the information she could gather before making a decision on him.

"Not much more to tell. Few foster homes later, I got shipped to Juvie Hall for arson. They let me out when I turned 18, wiped all the records." He sighs. It felt oddly good to talk about it to someone that seemed to understand. "Never did pass my GED, so I worked a ranch until..." He doesn't finish the sentence. "Then, worked for the highway department for a while. Had to leave that job, too. And...here I am."

_He can't control it._ That oppressive air around her somehow dissipates. It was making a little more sense, but she wasn't going to credit him anything he hadn't earned. "Well, you turned out nice enough." Is all she says.

He gives her a long glance from the corner of his eye. "You know, I'm only tryin' to stay on your good side because..." Because why? He'd started it, so he felt compelled to finish it. "Because I thought you'd get it. I got no friends. You know that, right?"

Well, maybe she did, maybe she didn't. Or maybe, she didn't want him to know that she did. "Yeah, I could tell that. But you've got a real issue about letting people in, too. That can't be too helpful in making friends."

"Yeah?" She'd managed to draw a rise in tone from him again, making him turn to her with thinly veiled frustration. "Yeah, well..." Well, what? All the bluster falls out of him. His shoulders slump, and he whispers, "Guess you're right."

Yeah, she was. But it was just as annoying as if she were merely guessing. A barely audible sigh leaves her, and her chin tilts downwards. "I don't like her getting hurt."

"...You think she's really...?" Without thinking, Gregory buries his face in one hand. "You seem nice. Both of ya. And after this week, you'll go back to...wherever the Hell you're from. And I'll...go back to my life, too." His facial expression only becomes more set as he speaks. "The other reason I'm sayin' this is because I won't have time to hurt anyone."

"It doesn't really matter how long…" Aria says lowly, and then cuts herself off. "She hasn't figured it out yet, a lot of things that is. She can be such a blonde…" For once, she can't figure out what she wants to convey. "Her ex smacked her, and me, around a bit before we came down here. But I gave him a good reason not to come around again." She pauses, wondering why she'd even said that.

"I don't really remember a lot, but I remember you takin' down a man twice your size." Gregory chuckles and laces his fingers in front of his face contemplatively. "Anyway, you'll both be better off without me around, I'm sure a' that." He thinks for a moment, then adds, "Sounds like she's got lousy taste in men."

The recent memory pulls at the corners of her mouth, too. But then that fades, "Yeah, she does at times." Another sigh, this time through her nose a little roughly. A long silence passes, almost edging on the uncomfortable when she speaks, "You need to learn how to control your temper."

Hearing those words spoken so matter-of-factly cause him to become pensive. Finally, he nods. "Yeah... Yeah, I do. It, uh...happens when I'm upset, usually. Not like I can afford any fancy therapists, though. Not on my salary."

"I'm not asking you to saddle up with a shrink." She replies, shaking her head. "You're swallowing down every other available emotion, and then, when you get mad." Her hand whips up quickly, and she snaps.

"You need to know something," he whispers. "I've never hit anyone when I was mad, 'less they hit me first." There's a pause, a chuckle, and he adds, "'Course...I get hit a lot."

"Regardless, you could do better." Sounding like something maternal, she offers him that scolding stare as well. "Random combustion isn't a good thing, as I'm sure you know."

"It ain't just anger." Gregory's shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. "It's... Being upset. I think in my dream, I mighta..." He glances at her from the corner of his eye before continuing. "I mighta just been scared. Hell, I was kid. I don't know."

"Letting that consume your thought process is going to stunt any progress you'll ever make." This coming from her. "You don't seem fond of moving around so much. Instead of expecting it, why don't you do something _about _it."

"Like what?" He's often confrontational in tone, but this time...he sounds more guarded. Much more cautious. And he still won't look directly at her. "You gotta plan?"

In reply, she is just as stoic as before, shrugging casually. "That's not my place to do. You know yourself the best. What do _you _think would be the best course of action?"

His lips part, then he closes his mouth again. His jaw clenches. He'd never thought about it. Not like that. He lived day to day, by and large, always ready to pack up and move whenever... "Never thought much about it," he grumbles.

"Well, you might want to." Just as she replies, she looks over her shoulder. There's a figure moving towards them, and soon enough the dark silhouette is blessed with color; mostly yellow.

"You guys weren't too bored while I was gone?" Taila smiles. "I had to go to a restaurant, they had the other ones locked."

"No, we were fine." Aria replies, standing and stretching her arms high above her head. "I think we outta get back soon, though. It's getting late."

"Yeah," Gregory mumbles, leaning forward to stand up. He didn't want to. He didn't want to leave them. The thought of never finding his way back to people who understood and...liked...him... Stoic eyes fix on the ocean again.

"Why are you such a Gramma!" Taila suddenly barks, "Its just ten! If you wanna go back, go ahead. I haven't had a chance to properly enjoy the scenery." Her slender arms fold over her chest. There wouldn't be any persuading her.

Aria, somewhat lost for a reply at first, glances at Gregory. "Well, I can't leave you here alone."

She might not see it. He wasn't aware it was there. But for just a moment, his lips curl into the faintest of smiles. When it fades, he looks to them pointedly. "Alright. What do people normally do at ten on a Friday night?"

It's black and white between them. "I study." "I go dancing with my friends!" Aria's arms raise and curl over her own breast, where Taila has dropped her stubborn stance entirely. Aria was tired, mostly mentally.

"Great. So long as that's clear..." He'd been working hard all day, and he didn't have to work the next day. That usually meant a day of boredom, flipping between whatever snowy channels he could get on his television and napping. Even being near them while they studied would be better.

"You don't have anything to study…unless you have a picture of Joe!" Taila's already backing away after she says this, and justly so. For her friend soon passes a very intimidating stare, "I told you, we aren't together for corn's sake! We're not, nor will be an item! Okay?"

"'Joe'? That the 'boy-toy's' name?" Gregory speaks without thinking, and almost immediately regrets it. This time, when red creeps into his face, it's unmistakably a feeling of embarrassment. He tries to salvage the situation with another sentence. "Sounds like you read 'em wrong, Taila."

"The…_what_?" Her ire is now being shared betwixt them. Taila is surprised to see such a response, her eyes are quite large. "We were just talking, you know I just tease you…Aria?"

She's completely turned away, now. "If you two wanna hang out, go ahead. I'm going back to the hotel." Picking up her shoes, she starts off the opposite side that they'd climbed.

"Hey, wait, I..." Gregory's words hang limply after Aria. He hangs his head in defeat, black hair dangling over the sides of his face. "I'm sorry, Taila," he mumbles. "Some kinda friend I'd make..."

Long after she's out of earshot, Taila replies. "Well, I was sort of asking for it, bugging her like that. So its not your fault." At the end, she's smiling again. "I'll just buy her a book and she'll be fine!"

_Boy toy? _That girl, oh that girl. How could she just go rambling about Joseph like that! Aria was feeling exceptionally nervous, now. Even if she'd figured out more about this Gregory, she didn't feel safe with him knowing about Joseph. Of course he didn't know _everything, _but that was irrelevant!

"I just..." When Gregory raises his head, he's still breathing heavily, but his facial expression is smooth again. "Nah. It's my fault. I shouldn'ta said anything." And probably shouldn't even have come here, he thinks.

"Hey." Touching his arm, she frowns slightly. "Are you sure that isn't infected? You're really hot…I mean, warm. Heh." Friction rises in her cheeks, but she's more fixed on worry. "She's huffy sometimes, don't worry about it."

"I'm warm-blooded," he mumbles without the slightest hint of irony. "I'm always like that." The muscles in his jaw visibly contract. "You're sure she'll be...y'know...okay?" As an afterthought, he adds, "Don't want to take your friends away."

"Nah. She'll be alright. She's redheaded, if you didn't notice. Once she cools down…it'll be fine." She smiles.

Yes, Aria had a very specific temper. It took a lot to get her seething, but once she was, it was a cue to run. She would usually abandon ship from the situation first, like she just had on the beach, and find tranquility in simply being away for a moment. She was almost two blocks from the hotel when this happens, and she thinks _Should I have left her alone with him?_

"Hey, I'm Navajo," he quickly replies. "Doesn't mean I'm magical, or I love nature, or anything like that." What was he? "I'm...just a guy tryin' to get by, you know? That's...that's all I want." It wasn't much, but it was an answer for her...even if it wasn't a plan.

Taila seems perplexed by his sudden need to tell her this, but it was something new for her to know. "Well yeah, of course." Her hand is still on her arm, and she suddenly appears more resolute, "I wouldn't expect any less, from a good guy like you." That contagious smile creeps back into her features. "But really, she'll be fine. I promise. I know her, Aria's just got some soft spots that she doesn't like people getting close to."

"Like spendin' a lot of time alone?" His words have an artificially casual air, and he watches Taila's reaction from only the corner of his eye. "Dunno why that'd be somethin' to be upset about." Only after he said it did he realize he was trying to convince himself, not her, of that.

"Yeah, actually." Taila replies, her pitch a little higher. Staring off in the direction her friend had gone, "She never would tell me why, but she doesn't date at all. I guess that's why she doesn't want me knowing anything about this Joe-dude. But she's only throwing more fuel on the fire since I know _of _him." She chuckles lightly.

_I shouldn't have left her with him._ Aria thinks to herself. She's been standing on the sidewalk for a few minutes now, turned back towards the beach. He wouldn't hurt her, would he? She couldn't risk anything. Pushing herself forward, she starts back. "Joseph, you jerk. I could really use your help right now." She mutters under her breath.

"Huh." He snorts at the thought that comes to his mind. To him, it didn't seem right that she'd keep "Joe" a secret from her friend. Then again, the fact that she did that, and Taila knew her so well...

Gregory's eyes widen with realization. He wasn't the smartest guy, and he knew it, but even the dumbest cow finds grass now and then. "Look, Taila." He turns to face her fully as he speaks. "Y'know, out West, there used to be codes. One of them was that, if you trust your friends, you don't make 'em tell you things they don't wanna. If you trust 'em, you trust their judgment. If you trust their judgment, then you trust 'em to tell you when the time's right. If it's ever right." At the end, he even manages a feeble smile.

Her smile fades, and is replaced with slight surprise. For one who didn't seem so social, he sure was insightful. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Nodding for no apparent reason, those light brows knit. "Yeah, I shouldn't be so mean to her about it. You're right. Thanks."

He doesn't know why, but his smile broadens as he watches her. "I'm sure she'll tell ya, if it's ever important. If it ain't, she don't have to, but she still might." He turns to look out at the sea again, defiantly folding his arms. "And ya always drink upstream from the herd, too."

This statement brings her to tilt her head in confusion, "Wha…?" But before she can really put serious thought into asking, she begins to laugh.

Cresting the ramp she'd exited on, Aria pauses. They were where she'd left them. Kneeling down and blending against a trash receptacle, she only watches, even though she can't hear them.

When she laughs, he smiles, too. "Yeah. You'd be surprised what you'n learn from a cowboy, city girl." In a more serious, but almost-identical sounding, tone, he adds, "How long you two been friends, anyway?"

Finally, some liveliness! "Oh geez, I dunno, a couple years." Chuckling, she sways from side to side a little. "I know we're like…oil and water or something…but she's really been the best friend I've ever had." Towards the end of that verbal thought, her eyes flutter slightly, lending towards the right. "She's always taking care of me.."

"She seems to take care of _everyone_." His deadpan tone doesn't waver in the least when he says that. "How the Hell'd you two meet, anyway? I don't see you hangin' out at the same places."

Taila laughs again, "Yeah, we sometimes call her 'Momma Bear'." Grinning, she looks back up at him. "School, one of those required classes. We were paired for an assignment, and it sort of went from there."

"Huh. 'Required classes', huh?" It might not be obvious to her, but he obviously has no clue what she's talking about. "I guess that's the way colleges do things, huh?"

"Everywhere pretty much does it." Her eyes roll, and her nose wrinkles. "Its pretty stupid, if you ask me. I don't need to know Shakespeare to run a business." Snorting softly.

_Huh._ This hadn't been what she had expected, at all. Almost tempted to just sit down, Aria observes the goings on between the two. There was a short distance between them, and they were still talking. Had they even moved at all?

"Shakespeare?" Again, he finds himself drawn to face her fully. "Tell me more about that. Anything you remember. I..." Awkwardly, he continues after a brief pause. "Never really been through much school. Guess I'm jealous."

"I don't remember a lot of it, to be honest." Taila raises a hand to scratch idly at her temple. "I never liked Lit classes. Aria could tell you more, she's more the 'model student' than me." Her smile partially erases, at least at one corner of her mouth. She absently glances in the direction her friend had gone.

There was a tension in her words. Stiffly, Gregory folds his arms and turns back out to the sea. In his low, growly voice, he only says, "You're both real lucky to have friends like that." His brown eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

Why was his mood changing so much? A minute ago he was nervous, now he seemed mad. Taila was growing fairly baffled, and upset herself. After a minute, she leans up into his field of view, "Well, its not like we couldn't be your friends too, or anything."

"I..." Her sudden movement, her tender words...his breath catches in his chest. For the briefest second, sorrow pulls the corners of his eyes downward. Then, he's resumed his accustomed stone-faced demeanor. "Real nice of you to offer, but...you'll be goin' back to your world soon. And me..." What about him? He couldn't tell her, could he? That, sooner or later, something else would go wrong, and then it'd be another town, another dead-end job.

"Real world? Aww, c'mon." That sunny-attitude returns as she pokes his upper arm, "We can keep in touch! We're not a million miles away." Had she missed that moment of dole entirely - Or was she ignoring it?

"I...move around a lot," he mumbles, fighting every instinct to return that contagious smile. "I'd be a pretty damn lousy friend." Shaking his head, he adds, "I'm glad you feel that way, though. Real glad. Not sure I can really tell ya how much it means just to hear you say that."

Even with the tiny spark of hope, she frowns at him with halflit eyes, and her hands have drawn up to rest on her hips. "You don't seem like a _lousy_ friend to me! You saved _us_, and we're having fun right now…aren't we?" Before he can answer, "If you like traveling, you should take a look at where we live. It's a college-town, but there's plenty of jobs around."

"I..." He could tell her the truth. It wouldn't be hard. But if he went to where they were from, she might be the next person he hurt. Of course, she wouldn't know how to take that. She couldn't know. "I'm not real sure I'd fit in there."

"Why not? We're just a bunch of school kids, working our way through it all." Smiling, she thumbs towards the buildings behind them, "Aria works at a bookstore café during the summer. She makes enough money to last her through the year when she has class." A pause, "You could go back to school, ya know. Its not that hard."

Maybe she had over thought the situation. Aria didn't know what to feel more foolish about: leaving her friend with a prospective threat, or sitting behind a trashcan and spying on them. This was silly. Deciding to go back to the hotel and soak for as long as she could before Taila came back, Aria sneaks off to avoid being seen.

Listening to her say it, it seemed too simple. He could, couldn't he? Then again, schoolwork had never been easy to him. He could read, at least, but that was the most practical thing he'd learned in school, and virtually the only thing he'd retained. Where he was from, it wasn't difficult to find people like him, people with little formal schooling. "Hey," he abruptly asks, "where are you from, anyway?"

"Oh, about six-to-eight hours away, a place called Petersburg. It's kinda big, but not huge or anything. We're sorta pinned in a valley." Watching his reactions, she prods at the idea some more, "Aria gets scholarships for being the bookworm that she is, I'd bet you could get some for something."

"Scholarships?" He has to repeat the word, suddenly keenly aware of how little she knew about him. "Taila, I... I've got a long way to go before I'd have to worry about 'scholarships.'" It was subtle, but maybe she'd pick up on it.

She doesn't, and this is noted by the tilt of her head. "If you really wanted to, I bet you could do it." The corners of her mouth begin to perk again. Abruptly turning towards the ocean, she sways from side to side slightly. "Are we going to get to hang out some more?"

Gregory almost lets the topic drop before he realizes that it would only deepen his eventual embarrassment. "Best to just say it, then," he murmurs. "I never finished high school. That's why I wouldn't be worried about scholarships." Why admit that? If he honestly believed she wouldn't see him after this week, what harm would come from letting her believe what she wanted? "...And...yeah. I'd really like to, uh, 'hang out' with both of ya, but..."

The offering makes her turn back towards him slightly, "They offer classes to get people their GED's, it happens all the time." This didn't seem to be fazing her as much as it should have. But to what he says secondly, she looks down at the ground with lowered shoulders. Chewing on her glossy lip, "I just asked, cause…we'll be leaving in 2 days…"

"Yeah." The deadline on the building he was working on wasn't for another week. He planned on being where he was at least that long. Inhaling, he sets his jaw and glares out at the ocean again. "I hope ya both are happy, y'know. Where ever ya end up."

"Hm." That wasn't really the reply she had been hoping for. Keeping her head low, her fingers and worming together behind her back. "Yeah, I hope the same for you." She looks up at him to smile with the thought, and then returns to her fidgeting.

She was just in front of him, her back to him. He finds his hand reaching out for her shoulder before he stops to think. _ What am I doing? _Awkwardly, he flexes his hand and resumes his posture. "Petersburg, huh? I know the place. There just one school there?"

"Well, there's the campus…and then a Middle School. The grade and high school are a little further out." She shrugs absently; her interest peeked seeing as how he's conversational again. "The college takes up a lot of room, but there's still plenty of city to go around."

"Right. Well, I might be able to find you, then. If...if ya wanted me to." He still had questions for Aria. That'd be reason enough for him to visit. Wouldn't it? That was what he told himself, anyway. Maybe it was just an excuse. Maybe it was selfish.

"Well, yeah!" The reply comes a little loud compared to their softer exchanges. She's whirled towards him fully now, her whole body is rocking from side to side with excitement. Looking down, she grabs her purse off the rocks and begins digging inside. "Here's our address, and my cell number." Scribbling this down on a mini-sticky note, she hands the pink parchment to him.

There was one question that was never answered: has her mentor followed her? Had he been lurking in the shadows the whole time, watching from places unseen, from behind walls or beneath floors? Once she'd returned, he gave no indication one way or the other. Instead, he'd simply picked up exactly where he left off: training. Reciting and discussing poetry while sparring with quarterstaves, acting as if nothing had happened. The dusty and dingy building, Joseph's dojo, was therefore filled with the clatter of wood striking wood, Joseph's deep steady tones contrasted by her own lighter pitch.

Then, finally, he holds up one hand, signifying a break. Even after a week, she was farther along that she had been before. Perhaps the break was what she needed. Perhaps he knew that. As he offers her a bottle of water to replace the wood in her hands, he finally asks the question she most likely expected. "Well...did you enjoy your trip?"

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Aria simply crosses her heels and sinks to the floor with her 'weapon' still in hand. As the bottle comes sailing her way, she catches it and quickly opens it, taking a few deep drinks before he can even take in the breath to ask his question. When he does, she pauses, the plastic canteen lowering to be recapped. "Hm." She wasn't sure how to answer, or how she even felt about the trip. Sure, they'd come home in one piece, but had it been that leisurely? "It was interesting." She answers, and then looks up at him, "How was _your _vacation?"

"Vacation?" He repeats the word; had she not spent so much time with him, she might have missed the muted surprise in his expression. "I can't say I really thought of it in those terms," he replies. "I honestly don't feel as though I've had a proper 'vacation' in... Well, some time." He, of course, doesn't drink any water. Instead, he lowers himself to a kneel only after she does so. "Where was it you say you went again?"

"Helena Beach." Aria replies, eyeing him. "Ya know, it wouldn't kill you to take some time to yourself. To really relax." She hoped that hadn't been a poor choice of words, now that they had escaped her mouth. Sitting the bottle down, she leans back and props herself up with her hands. "Did you get to do anything neat?"

"Unfortunately," he replies with a sigh, "This world lost much of its novelty to me long ago. There aren't many places I go where I find something 'neat.'" For a moment, they seem almost like peers, but just as quickly he regains his composure as a mentor. "What of you? Anything noteworthy happen?" There it was: that casual side glance. Did he know? Could he know?

By now, she is quick enough to notice it, even when she was tired. Part of her wanted to be blunt and ask him, but the other half was still thinking that it sounded ridiculous to even entertain it. "Oh, not really. Nothing I couldn't handle, at least." She averts her gaze to the corner of the room, where a leaf has blown in through the open window.

"Good." Leaning back, Joseph settles his weight onto his haunches. "You know, that is exactly what I'm attempting to build in you through all of this: the sort of strength to deal with any situation without my assistance. I can't necessarily be there to stop Christopher, to say nothing of more numerous and mundane threats."

"So, you think he's going to come back." The thought pours over her lips without much emotion as she looks back at him. She had wondered for some time, and pondering on it, with the way that Joseph spoke of his sibling, he made it sound as thought Christopher wouldn't easily give up his prey: her. But, she had hoped that her sticking around with Joseph would have deterred Chris's interests by now.

"He may. I doubt he will, honestly." Joseph speaks openly on the point. Perhaps surprisingly openly. "I would have you be prepared for him, or any number of other potential threats." He looks directly at her when he continues. "I wouldn't be doing all this with you if I didn't have faith in your ability to judge when to use-and not use-your skills."

That stare. It was one that a parent gave a child when expecting to hear the truth come out. Yes, he wasn't saying anything noting towards what had occurred at the beach, but now she was certain he knew that something had happened. If he hadn't witnessed it from the shadows. Staring at the floor, "What would you say…if I said that I met someone with "gifts" while I was away?" her eyes only glance up at him after a few seconds. Enough for it to reach his ears, but not enough for him to hide his response, if he shows it.

"Hm." Joseph nods once, grimly. "Was this person you met friend, foe, or something else altogether?" He shows the requisite level of interest, but there is no outward indication of insincerity. Of course, it might be a ruse. If he'd been there, why would he not tell her so? If he hadn't, would he honestly act as he was acting now?

Aria switches her legs from that Indian-style, so that she is sitting on her heels, her knees resting on the floor, and her hands over them. "Well, Taila made friends with him. More than I did." She becomes thoughtful, "I think he was just…afraid of everything. Mostly himself." From what Taila had told her, there had been no word from Gregory just yet, but the blonde was waiting patiently. Aria would hide a sigh each time, and stifle herself from ruining the moment. She didn't expect him to call, what with him being male...and a few other factors, those of which Taila didn't know of.

"Afraid of himself? He's either a coward, or he possesses good judgment. Perhaps both." Joseph's assertion on that point is quiet and pointed. So was his way. "Do you think he should be afraid?"

The timing couldn't have been more fitting. Of course, Gregory couldn't know that. From his hospital bed-yet another hospital bed-he was dialing the number she'd given him at that exact moment. With a resigned sigh, he lifts the phone up to his ear and listens to the ringing tone.

He was giving her very judgmental questioning. "Hm. Yes and no. If he weren't, he'd probably be dangerous to some extend, but him being terrified of himself isn't making his case any more helpful." Beneath her, toes wriggle. "There's gatta be a balance."

She had been on her way to class when the call came. A very personalized ringtone begins singing from her purse, and Taila reaches in casually and views the screen. It wasn't someone she knew offhand, but maybe… "Hello?"

Aria might see it. She might not. At her words, though, Joseph smiles. It is a warm, proud smile. "I was right to choose to train you," he says matter-of-factly.

"Hello. Uh...Taila? It's..." A heavy sigh. "It's Gregory. Uh...somethin' came up. You ain't seen the news lately, or anything?"

At first, Taila doesn't know the voice. But after a few more words, the girl is jumping up and down on the sidewalk. "Greg! I-" pausing, she settles quickly, "No, why? Are you okay?" picking up her backpack, she moves over towards a bench and sits down.

"I..." He looks down at his tanned arm, needles thrust into protruding veins. Another sigh, and he flexes his hand. He didn't need the needles. "Yeah. I'm just fine, but... Those guys came back to where I work."

"Oh my gosh." Covering her mouth, Taila feels a dropping sensation in her chest, though her blood pressure rises. "Are you sure you're ok? Did they hurt you? When did it happen?" She looks around absently, though she should have known better than to expect to see Aria round. That redhead had ran off with her…whatever-he-was…again!

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he repeats calmly. Just hearing her concern made him want to talk. That was something he didn't feel like doing often. "It was last night. They wanted to...uh...beat me up, I guess. Taila? Before you hear about it anywhere else, I want ya to know: there was an accident in the fight. Acetylene torches. It... I'm fine, but..."

"Torches?" Taila repeats, suddenly perplexed and even more flustered, "What the hell was wrong with those guys? How retarded could they be? Torches? Are they trying to reinstate angry-farmer mobs or something!" Fuming, she feels even more helpless having passed out at the time of their "mugging." But how would that have helped now? "If you're okay, that's all that matters…" _But I'd like to set _those_ guys on fire._ She thinks.

"No, they were... Well, some of the welders use them. For, uh, welding. Everyone else got out, but they were fighting me, and..." Another sigh. What to say next? "There was an explosion. I, uh... I got behind a wall in time, but they... Look, I wanted you to hear it from me, so you wouldn't worry..."

His trailing words worried her. 'but they…' That didn't sound good. But if these were evil men, did it really matter? "But, you're okay…right?" Taila was half tempted to plug in her Bluetooth and continue talking to him while texting Aria, but it would be such a chore, and she usually accidentally ended calls when she tried that. This was one that she wouldn't tamper with.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm...fine. Some woman from some news show was here earlier. Guess I'm even a hero now." An indignant snort. "Me...a hero. Huh. I was afraid you'd see it there first, and..."

"Hm?" The murmur interrupts him, "Is…that bad? I mean, you did save us." She wondered why he was so upset to be considered someone valiant. A lot of people went out of their way to get such attention. He was such a humble cowboy, it made her smile.

"I...wasn't really thinking about it much." A pause. Gregory shifts position on his bed, causing the plastic mattress to crinkle. "The reporters'll be gone in...I don't know. Maybe a day. Cops'll forget about me soon enough, too. And, uh, I don't really have a place to work anymore..."

That smile grows into a grin. "With summer coming up…I think they'll be starting those classes I told you about." Her voice is much softer, a lot calmer, and very warm. Like before, on the beach, she is rocking side to side with gleaming eyes.

"Yeah. Once they realize I'm gonna heal up, and I ain't paid up on any insurance, I figure I'll be back out. No way in... Uh, no way we're finishin' that buildin' on time now."

"Well, it may not be a good idea for you to go back there, anyway. Cousins of idiots like that tend to take unkindly to ...geez, you know what I mean." Giggling lightly, she twirls a strand of hair around her finger. "So, do you think you'll come up here? I mean, we have a couch if you need a place to crash…"

He stiffens at her words, then tries to force the stress back out of his voice before speaking. "I wouldn't put you out. I could find my own place, but...it ain't like I know anyone anywhere else. And, yeah. I'd like to get outta town quick, too."

"No! Its fine. At least until you get your own place." She could feel warmth pulling at her cheeks, on a day of cool overcast. Aria was going to kill her, but that this point she didn't care. Aria had a secret boyfriend, and so she'd have her own little secret…until Greg showed up that is. "I think you'll like it here, its really nice."

"Alright." Now, he thinks, I just gotta figure out how the Hell I'm gonna get there. "But I really couldn't inconvenience you all." He doesn't realize he's smiling right away. For the first time in a long time, the future didn't seem quite so oppressive.

"Nope! None! They actually let us stay in our dorms during the summer, so long as we take up a job on campus. I usually work in the café, and Aria works in the library. I'd bet we could find you something, even if you aren't a student!" She was planning it all already, this was so exciting!

"That sounds like somethin' you could get in trouble for. I'll look after myself. You shouldn't have to worry about havin' me around." There is the sound of metal sliding against metal in the background, and Gregory sighs. "Nurse's here. Guess it's time for my inspection. I probably oughta go."

"Yeah, well, you give the leeches lotsa blood if they want it! Okay? I'll see you…sometime soon?" Whether or not he answers, it doesn't even matter. She's so ecstatic that she doesn't even realize that she's ten minutes late for class now.

"Yeah. I'll call ya back, we'll talk more about when. Uh... Have a good day?"

"You too! Don't get burned out on jello!" With that, she ends the call and beams. "Yay!" Jumping back onto her feet, she grabs her backpack and begins to head towards the class she'd forgotten about. _Hm. Now to just tell Aria…_


End file.
